My husband and I are often in different countries.  Sometimes different continents.  A few moves and working for an international organization will do that to a couple.  There are business trips and conferences, training sessions and summer holidays.  There is wrap up and set up of the old and new digs.  It’s never for too long, but long enough to make the heart grow fonder.  He crosses his heart/hopes to die/stick a needle in his eye that when we are apart, he misses us.  And perhaps after the first few heel clicks of freedom, the heaving sigh of relief at being able to watch The Great British Bake-off in peace, the gluttonous satisfaction of eating take-out three nights in a row, he does.  But he steadfastly maintains that after a day or two the novelty tarnishes and the space in between becomes heavy; the days more about killing time than…