Later today, I’ll board a jet and head south to the Bay Area. I’ll arrive late, but she’ll be there. My lover. My partner. My best friend and hand-fasted mate. She’ll be there with a smile and kisses and wonderfully warm, strong arms to hold me. And I’ll return the favor.
She posted yesterday about how, no matter the time elapsed between visits, we always come back together as if no time has passed. We haven’t forgotten how to kiss, or touch, each other. We haven’t forgotten how to be together, the easiness of it, the rightness. It takes no time at all to remember how to laugh together, smile together, hold hands. It just flows, same as it has each time we’ve come together for the last 3+ years.
In her post, Roxy compared our visits to lights on a string, one flowing to the next. That visual made me think about parallel time tracks and the way it seems our visits have their own reality, their own sense of time. Subjectively, there are weeks and months between visits that are full of doctor’s appointments, work schedules, family drama and everything else in our regular lives. Once we’re back together, it will feel as though we’re always together. The gap will close with an almost audible ‘pop’. I’m partway into that mental space now. Going through the routine of the day, knocking things off the to do list and watching the clock for that magic time when I roll my truck onto the highway and begin the journey back to her. Back to us. Into her arms.
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