Later today, I’ll board a jet and head south to the Bay Area. Â I’ll arrive late, but she’ll be there. Â My lover. Â My partner. Â My best friend and hand-fasted mate. Â She’ll be there with a smile and kisses and wonderfully warm, strong arms to hold me. Â 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. Â We haven’t forgotten how to kiss, or touch, each other. Â We haven’t forgotten how to be together, the easiness of it, the rightness. Â Â It takes no time at all to remember how to laugh together, smile together, hold hands. Â 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. Â 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. Â Subjectively, there are weeks and months Â between visits that are full of doctor’s appointments, work schedules, family drama and everything else in our regular lives. Â Once we’re back together, it will feel as though we’re always together. Â The gap will close with an almost audible ‘pop’. Â I’m partway into that mental space now. Â 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. Â Back to us. Â Into her arms.
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