This week feels a little quieter than usual. Jake hasn’t been home for seven days because of back-to-back flights.

Being a pilot means long schedules, different cities, and sometimes barely enough sleep but he still makes time for me no matter how busy he is.

Our house feels bigger when he’s away. His side of the bed stays perfectly neat, and I catch myself missing the sound of his voice filling the room.

Before he left, he hugged me a little tighter than usual and promised.

“Just one week, okay? I’ll be home before you know it.”

Every night, we video call.

Sometimes he’s still in his uniform, looking tired but smiling the moment he sees me.

He tells me about the cities he flies to the beautiful skies, the busy airports, the sunsets he watches from above the clouds.

And I tell him about my day, the small things that happen at home, the way I’m counting down the days until he walks through our door again.

It hasn’t been easy being apart for a week, especially when we’re still newly married and adjusting to this kind of life.

But distance reminds us how much we love each other.

Even when he’s thousands of feet in the air, my heart feels connected to his. Five months of marriage, and I’m already learning that loving a pilot means loving the sky too.

No matter how far he flies or how long he’s away, I know he’ll always come back home to me.