June 3rd, 1989

June 3rd, 1989

South of France

Sitting outside waiting for Ben to return from work. It’s the most beautiful evening with a balmy breeze and clear skies filled with beaucoup d’etoiles.

Today has been absolutely amazing and one I’ll never forget. I knew I was really missing Ben but I didn’t quite realize just how much until I saw him again this afternoon. To say our reunion was spectacular would be an understatement.

One of the holiday reps Ben works with, Cynthia, met me at Gerona airport and I travelled here with her and her coach load of holidaymakers. I tried to stay awake so I could take in the scenery on the two-hour journey from Spain into the South of France, but I was so tired from being up all night that I kept nodding off.

When the coach arrived at what is essentially a camping ground, I scanned the small crowd and felt disappointed at no sight of Ben. I gathered up my belongings and stumbled off the coach. I was about to grab my suitcase when I felt a hand on my waist. I spun around and there he was, my gorgeous (very tanned) boyfriend. His beaming smile matched mine and we stared each other, grinning, for what felt like ages but was probably only a few seconds.

“Come here you,” he said, pulling me into him.

I breathed him in and felt so happy I thought I might cry but my desire to kiss him was stronger.

We took the short walk here to Ben’s place, which is pretty sparse but it seems he has everything he needs and at least he doesn’t have to share with anyone. He only had about an hour before he had to be back at work but let’s just say we wasted no time in getting to know each other all over again.

 

 

 

 

 

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