This is the story I tell myself about endings.
You say I only remember Tallahassee but that is because it was the begining of the end. That time is burned in my mind because it was so beautiful and I felt so safe giving that much of myself to someone.
We had struggled to get there. You had almost given up on me. I realized when you were gone one weekend that I was giving up too. That I was sliding into a pattern. Seeing him instead of you because you were never around. So I cut him out to let you in. Because I liked that we were being honest and I wanted to give it a real try this time, for the sake of trying. Not because I knew you or you knew me. In the end it’s amazing how much we hardly knew each other but because we both had decided this somehow. Not at the same time but in our way we were just going to try.
So we went to Tallahassee.
There was, for a moment with you security. And it felt good. It felt like what I imagine a spiritual home might feel like. Spiritual because it is not set in a place. It just exists in time.
I was so comfortable with you there that I gave you head in the living room after we thought everyone had gone to sleep. Because in Tallahassee I felt equal with you even with my head tucked underneath the blanket that your aunt had made by hand. A blanket you loved. Had never shared with anyone that wasn’t family.
And after one short week we left.
And it was not easy.
We drove for hours and waited half asleep in all the inbetween phases.
And I got really tired and you were no longer present with me there in my tiredness. You relapsed. Fell asleep in the car, at the airport, on the plane like a kid, your head pressed up against the window, your face hidden in your green fleece.
We were together only when it was easy to be together. In the summer months we thought we loved each other. It was harder in those moments than it would have been if I was alone. I was not the first to leave but once left, once you were on the other side of the world I realized I felt more myself than I had in a long while.
Just as it was harder for me to be with W than it would have been without him because I felt I was carrying his suffering with my suffering. Perhaps that’s always how it is. Perhaps that’s what signals leaving.