Thomas
He left today.
It had to happen sometime. I just never thought the day would really come. A part of me hoped that we'd be stuck in a glorious place where time didn't exist and thus neither did reality.
The past six weeks have been nothing short of wonderful. Full of travel, food, friends, futbol, us. We knew in a way that this was our final hurrah, that once we said goodbye and took our places in life on opposite ends of the country, "we" as we knew it would be over. It should have been over right after graduation. That's what we'd agreed upon. In fact, this summer wasn't supposed to happen at all. It was our impromptu last-ditch effort to defy time and space and just be together, goddammit.
Sure, we'll see each other during breaks, and phone as much as possible, but long distance is hard, and we don't even know where the other will end up after grad school. As much as we love each other, we both love our careers more, and we're not even close to being in a place where we'd make sacrifices of work for love.
And so, on an ominously gray Tuesday morning, I walked him to his car, I in my pajamas, both of us fighting back tears, and suddenly he was crying, and I was crying, and I kissed him fervently as the neighbors all stared, and he was off.
Now I shall launch back into my work, and practice to make up for lost time, and practice to take my mind off him. Spain is three weeks away, and I don't have any music learned.