Monday, September 08, 2008

Anywhere


I remember is standing outside of some foreign hotel, smoking a Marlboro and hoping that it wouldn’t end. The sprinklers of the building are on, and I get a steady steam of water slowly approaching me, and all I can think of is what I’ve lost.

The town is rather tiny: Bozeman, Montana. It has that small town feel. There are neon signs, cars driving around past twelve, liquor stores, and a younger, more rounded, American crowd. The one thing I notice more then anything is the climate. I'm out of the mountains now and it's a bit warmer. I could head out in a light sweater and not have to worry about the cold mountain fronts that come about in the evenings.

I am tempted to light another but instead I head back into the hotel. The lights in the building are dim and there is little to no activity. I walk through about three corridors until I finally find the entrance to the elevator. I head for the second floor.

As I open up my room door, I notice two things. First, how quiet it is, as I see my friend sprawled across the bed, his head is up, and he is making small noises (I grew used to this as the days passed). Second, I notice how much I will miss him. I really value his company, his friendship, and at that point in time I hold back my emotions.

I’m thinking the couch will be a safer place for me. I grab a pillow from the bed and bundle up, but all I can do is look over at him. It’s sad in a way, when you find something so comfortable - so great - and the universe steps in and takes it all way. It just gives me a taste of something, and adds to the struggle, because what else would life be if not for that struggle, it would almost be perfect then, wouldn’t it?

I lay in my newly constructed bed, with my forgein pillow, watching both the light from the bathroom come through a tiny crack, and ofcourse, how it falls onto the bed. I can make out parts of his body. He has a rather nice build when I think about it. I guess it's a rugby player body. His shoulders are wide, with a healthy waste line, and a nice height. You can tell he came from the quintisental American blood line - he came from the same people who helped build this great country, and his body is a sure sign of the toils and struggles of the previous generations. I'm thinking I love every part of him and how he fit so perfectly against me.

The couch isn’t as comfortable as I thought it would be. The material is itchy. It’s that Burberry kind of material that never did sit right with me. Now, I’m snuggling up against it, thinking the alternative would be far more painful but unavoidable. If I am to sleep tonight, I have to bite the bullet and jump back in their with him.

I don’t really deal well with goodbyes, especially when it comes to special friendships, or however else you may classify it. Whenever I have lost people in my life, well, I tend to just go off on my own and digress, maybe even romanticize it and make it feel more Hollywood or epic then it really is. I guess I like to be dramatic. It makes me feel that much more important. It makes my life seem special, or romantic, or however you want to see it.

I have given up on the couch. After thinking, I hoped to just craw into the bed without waking him and sleep peacefully. I don’t really want to look at him anymore. I don’t want to cuddle him. I just want to wake up at 5, with my bags packed and get on the plane. I don't really mean that but it's my headspace right now.

After ten or so days of hanging out, there is a part of my soul that now feels deeply for him. I don’t regret it. In fact, if anything it has made me feel alive again. It has made me realize that it’s not ALL bad in the world of dating, or that there are good, wholesome people out there for me to socialize with, and that there is hope.

It’s the end of a romance. The end of something that would have continued if he lived in the same country, and yeah, I think that is the real kicker in this situation. If we were in the same place who knows how this would progress.

As I craw into the sheets he immediately wakes and turns towards me, wrapping his arms around me - a protector - with a loving grip, with one of the kindest souls. How I could I resist him or his embrace? I give him a light squeeze back and decide that I will sleep in his arms after all. It feels too good to deny myself this one last pleasure.

It’s the eyes and smile that got me when I think about it. When I looked into his blue eyes, I felt nothing but kindness. I felt a gentle presence that I knew would never hurt me. I could be safe with him and that there would be nothing to fear. I think that is going to be the thing that will haunt me the most. Oh that sounded harsh, let me reword that last sentance: I will never forget the way he looked at me or how his smile would brighten my soul.

Thanks.


1 comment:

Unknown said...

i like......