Friday, September 15, 2006
Thursday's Post On Friday
I awoke this morning at 6:30am and in the quiet still of a grey morning, I climbed into my car and began my journey home.
East 8th to Fraser, Fraser to 12th, Grandview onto the #1 there was a dull numbness. It was only around Abbotsford that something released in me and I started to cry. Synonomously, something released in the sky above as well and pounding rain surrounded my car. Through tears and rain, I navigated my heart farther and farther away from the last six months of my life. Through rain and tears, I left behind all that has been done and all that has been undone. The tears weren't painful, they were just the release of a body and soul that has tried to be so strong for so long. I cried and sang and even laughed when the rain turned to snow - snow in september! - and I relived and let go and let go and relived all that I have survived.
In my tears, the click of dead bolt locking behind Jordan as he left our home for the last time. In my tears, the apartment amputated and empty with only the long, lonely looking couch, like an awkward scar scratched across the room. In my tears, every single bedbug bite that stole my sleep and my sanctuary. In my tears, saying goodbye to Pender and the safety of Its Island arms. In my tears, the magical twelve hour walk I took with Kyle, followed by the slow realization that that would be the first and last time I would ever see him. In my tears, the dream job that was a nightmare. In my tears, being kissed for the first time since becoming single and, despite the soft tenderness of the moment, experiencing only paralyzing fear. In my tears, a celebration of seeing Jo last Sunday and feeling for the first time that I will survive. In my tears, a Saturday afternoon with the Zach Braff-ish Mr. Reimer whose declaration that I should avoid getting romantically involved for the next three to five years both irritated and inspired me. In my tears, Jennie choosing Toronto without a hint of regret. In my tears, an ache of sheer loneliness. In my tears, the power of being, once again, on my own.
Tonight I sit typing this in a small bed in Calgary. The rain outside is relentless. I am more than halfway home, more than halfway to finding the closure I seek. I am glad I am taking this trip. Perhaps this is the part where I find my 'thing'. Maybe when I return everything will look and feel new. Maybe, I won't return. All I know is that there is one more day of driving and a few more tears to cry and, right now, I am exhausted.
Exhausted and Open. And more than a little bit wet.
East 8th to Fraser, Fraser to 12th, Grandview onto the #1 there was a dull numbness. It was only around Abbotsford that something released in me and I started to cry. Synonomously, something released in the sky above as well and pounding rain surrounded my car. Through tears and rain, I navigated my heart farther and farther away from the last six months of my life. Through rain and tears, I left behind all that has been done and all that has been undone. The tears weren't painful, they were just the release of a body and soul that has tried to be so strong for so long. I cried and sang and even laughed when the rain turned to snow - snow in september! - and I relived and let go and let go and relived all that I have survived.
In my tears, the click of dead bolt locking behind Jordan as he left our home for the last time. In my tears, the apartment amputated and empty with only the long, lonely looking couch, like an awkward scar scratched across the room. In my tears, every single bedbug bite that stole my sleep and my sanctuary. In my tears, saying goodbye to Pender and the safety of Its Island arms. In my tears, the magical twelve hour walk I took with Kyle, followed by the slow realization that that would be the first and last time I would ever see him. In my tears, the dream job that was a nightmare. In my tears, being kissed for the first time since becoming single and, despite the soft tenderness of the moment, experiencing only paralyzing fear. In my tears, a celebration of seeing Jo last Sunday and feeling for the first time that I will survive. In my tears, a Saturday afternoon with the Zach Braff-ish Mr. Reimer whose declaration that I should avoid getting romantically involved for the next three to five years both irritated and inspired me. In my tears, Jennie choosing Toronto without a hint of regret. In my tears, an ache of sheer loneliness. In my tears, the power of being, once again, on my own.
Tonight I sit typing this in a small bed in Calgary. The rain outside is relentless. I am more than halfway home, more than halfway to finding the closure I seek. I am glad I am taking this trip. Perhaps this is the part where I find my 'thing'. Maybe when I return everything will look and feel new. Maybe, I won't return. All I know is that there is one more day of driving and a few more tears to cry and, right now, I am exhausted.
Exhausted and Open. And more than a little bit wet.
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