It’s Tuesday night. If you follow me on twitter, you probably know that Tuesdays are one of the highlights of my week. Because Tuesdays mean Mexican food with the Franklin “Campus.” And so Tuesdays mean good food and drink with a heaping side of a great conversation with some of most life-giving people I know.

That’s why I was surprised to find myself crying. All the way home.

It wasn’t anything anyone did or said. And it wasn’t anything anyone didn’t do or didn’t say. Really, it wasn’t.

It was me. Or the lack of me. That had me in tears.

My easy affection and dependable laughter stolen and replaced with all I could muster…forced smiles and stiffled answers.

And I realized, I miss me.

For the last month or so, I have felt like a shell of myself, going through the motions, doing my best to get through the day, putting one front in front of the other.

So maybe its natural that on nights, like tonight, I might miss me.

I can’t help but wonder if others miss me too?

I can’t help but wonder if I will find myself again soon?

I can’t help but wonder if the me that is found will at all resemble the me that has gone missing?

And I can’t help but wonder have you ever missed you before?

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