Seeing Someone
I'm going to go diary on you and write about what I feel, and what I feel like writing about, rather than making attempt to write something interesting, enlightening, or a more accurate autobiographical record of my life. (Yes, I know, that's what I always do!)
I just dropped Eric off at the airport. As I drove away, the radio-- which I swear plays no music in this town-- spontaneously began playing my Eric song. How did it know? It's like being in a movie, and this was the sad departure scene. Queue the music! I did manage to not cry, however. Goodbyes often strike me as sad, and I most certainly didn't want Eric to leave.
I am feeling so very alone now, here in my hotel room pseudo home, in my bed, alone. There is no Eric. There are no children filling my spaces with art work and food wrappers and dirty socks, arguments and laughter. There's been so much good here the past two weeks, and now I have to face the emptiness again. Thank god for Eric's visit; the sudden absence of my children would have been unbearable, rather than just tolerably painful. I'll be fine, of course, just not as happy as one is in the company of special people. I will have to get used to being alone again. It's so palpable, this loneliness, I could reach out and grab it. I'd tuck it away somewhere if it would stay put, but it's always peeking out from its hiding places.
I am too involved with Eric now to continue my "I'm single!" gleeful frolicking without the caveat that I'm seeing someone. My feelings won't let me: I like him too much. If I were to go out with another man, I'd feel I was being misleading. If I were to kiss another, I'd feel I was betraying Eric. But Eric isn't my boyfriend, so I feel really hung up here. I'm committed to someone who isn't committed to me. I'm committed for no reasons other than the dictates of my conscience and emotions. It feels a little foolish.
I miss him already. Four days--though fantastic!-- was not nearly, nearly enough time.
I just dropped Eric off at the airport. As I drove away, the radio-- which I swear plays no music in this town-- spontaneously began playing my Eric song. How did it know? It's like being in a movie, and this was the sad departure scene. Queue the music! I did manage to not cry, however. Goodbyes often strike me as sad, and I most certainly didn't want Eric to leave.
I am feeling so very alone now, here in my hotel room pseudo home, in my bed, alone. There is no Eric. There are no children filling my spaces with art work and food wrappers and dirty socks, arguments and laughter. There's been so much good here the past two weeks, and now I have to face the emptiness again. Thank god for Eric's visit; the sudden absence of my children would have been unbearable, rather than just tolerably painful. I'll be fine, of course, just not as happy as one is in the company of special people. I will have to get used to being alone again. It's so palpable, this loneliness, I could reach out and grab it. I'd tuck it away somewhere if it would stay put, but it's always peeking out from its hiding places.
I am too involved with Eric now to continue my "I'm single!" gleeful frolicking without the caveat that I'm seeing someone. My feelings won't let me: I like him too much. If I were to go out with another man, I'd feel I was being misleading. If I were to kiss another, I'd feel I was betraying Eric. But Eric isn't my boyfriend, so I feel really hung up here. I'm committed to someone who isn't committed to me. I'm committed for no reasons other than the dictates of my conscience and emotions. It feels a little foolish.
I miss him already. Four days--though fantastic!-- was not nearly, nearly enough time.