After ~two months at my parents' place I'm back in the 

812

. On the drive yesterday my girlfriend asked whether I missed my parents. 

"No. But I do love them so much more after this visit. But I do not miss them. Right now."

This morning while eating a toasted cheese and turkey sourdough sandwich I did feel this immense missing of them. But it wasn't in the way where I wanted to be next to them right away. Different than the feeling a child has when devastatingly taken away from their parents, I missed less their presence, and more their character.

The idea that came to mind was that this was an artistic sense of missing someone. Just like a good book stays with you after you've read it without you having to be reading it anymore, that's how I feel about my parents now. It's a great feeling. In a perfect world would I want to always want to long to be in their presence 24/7? Sure maybe. It's an idyllic image, but the world and life isn't an image, though sometimes we may think it is.