(no subject)
It was a spur of the moment decision.
It was probably around 10.30 when my phone started playing a soft tune that I've always associated with pangs of great sadness and also great joy. I picked up, expecting one of our famous 3-hour middle of the night conversations. I was mistaken.
"So, since you've been pestering- well, not really pestering- but saying I should come out to Detroit, are you doing anything tomorrow? I can be there by noon thirty-ish."
And that was it. The plans were forming faster than I could keep up with them. In a little over twelve hours, I would see one of my dearest friends. There was an overwhelming feeling of elation. There was also an undertone of relief. While I as overjoyed that I would get to see him for the first time in a year and a half-- though it hasn't felt that long-- I was also glad that I wouldn't be spending another night, alone, in the apartment.
The cleaning whirlwind began as soon as the phone was hung up. Everything that didn't cause noise (like vacuuming and laundry) was done in a matter of minutes. It's amazing what one can do when properly motivated. When it was all looking spiffy, exhaustion swept over my body. It was around 4am. I set my alarm for 8, so I could complete the remaining chores. They were done quickly.
I sat around for nearly an hour, just waiting for it to be time to leave. I would look at the clock every three minutes or so. I swear I looked at the map to the airport at least 3678 times. FINALLY! It was time! I drove and drove and drove. About half way there, I hardly heard the soft melody crooning from my pocket over the uproar of The Cat Empire.
"I'm at the airport! The flight came in early." I was still 10 minutes out. I would have gotten there right on time. Luckily, deboarding takes some time. Unlickily, I'm a complete moron the second I turn onto airport property. I drove past the terminals, and out of the airport. Another phone call. "Are you on the first or second floor?" Uhm... I'm trying to find a parking lot...
Eventually I found where I was supposed to be. The arrivals gate. You came into view, and I honestly don't remember the last time I was legitimately happy. The drive back took hours. Stops for beer and food, we got back to the apartment around 3.30. It was as if we'd never been apart. That year of silence never happened.
The hours seemed to melt away. Drink after drink aided in the process. We shared story after story. Times of uplifting joy, and times of crushing sorrow. We recalled times of mental instability and laughed about flying chairs. Pictures with knives and poor acting were probably the highlight. Just remember the "Serious Face Mantra:" Drowning Kittens, Dying Nuns. And as the conversation became quiet-- in volume, not interest-- sleep began to weigh down my eye lids. Granted, it was nearly 7am. It was a consensual decision: sleep was needed. Alarms were set, and we both fell into sleep after several mumbled conversations. About what, I'd never be able to tell you.
10am careened through the window too quickly, and we left for the airport in a Michigan downpour. It was all bittersweet. The visit, the departure. It was the best time I've had since being out here, but I knew the farewell would be heart wrenching. It made me realize how alone I really am out here.
I talked to my mom for about an hour after returning from the airport. I cried for a good time after I hung up with her. I missed her, even though I'd seen her all day Mother's Day. I missed my home. I missed Vernon, as boring as it is. I missed my puppies and kitten, even though I had three kitties snuggling with me. I pictured my bags packed and leaving before they even woke up. Just leaving a note saying that I couldn't stay any longer.
It could have been perfect.
And it could have ended one of the longest friendships I've ever had.
It was probably around 10.30 when my phone started playing a soft tune that I've always associated with pangs of great sadness and also great joy. I picked up, expecting one of our famous 3-hour middle of the night conversations. I was mistaken.
"So, since you've been pestering- well, not really pestering- but saying I should come out to Detroit, are you doing anything tomorrow? I can be there by noon thirty-ish."
And that was it. The plans were forming faster than I could keep up with them. In a little over twelve hours, I would see one of my dearest friends. There was an overwhelming feeling of elation. There was also an undertone of relief. While I as overjoyed that I would get to see him for the first time in a year and a half-- though it hasn't felt that long-- I was also glad that I wouldn't be spending another night, alone, in the apartment.
The cleaning whirlwind began as soon as the phone was hung up. Everything that didn't cause noise (like vacuuming and laundry) was done in a matter of minutes. It's amazing what one can do when properly motivated. When it was all looking spiffy, exhaustion swept over my body. It was around 4am. I set my alarm for 8, so I could complete the remaining chores. They were done quickly.
I sat around for nearly an hour, just waiting for it to be time to leave. I would look at the clock every three minutes or so. I swear I looked at the map to the airport at least 3678 times. FINALLY! It was time! I drove and drove and drove. About half way there, I hardly heard the soft melody crooning from my pocket over the uproar of The Cat Empire.
"I'm at the airport! The flight came in early." I was still 10 minutes out. I would have gotten there right on time. Luckily, deboarding takes some time. Unlickily, I'm a complete moron the second I turn onto airport property. I drove past the terminals, and out of the airport. Another phone call. "Are you on the first or second floor?" Uhm... I'm trying to find a parking lot...
Eventually I found where I was supposed to be. The arrivals gate. You came into view, and I honestly don't remember the last time I was legitimately happy. The drive back took hours. Stops for beer and food, we got back to the apartment around 3.30. It was as if we'd never been apart. That year of silence never happened.
The hours seemed to melt away. Drink after drink aided in the process. We shared story after story. Times of uplifting joy, and times of crushing sorrow. We recalled times of mental instability and laughed about flying chairs. Pictures with knives and poor acting were probably the highlight. Just remember the "Serious Face Mantra:" Drowning Kittens, Dying Nuns. And as the conversation became quiet-- in volume, not interest-- sleep began to weigh down my eye lids. Granted, it was nearly 7am. It was a consensual decision: sleep was needed. Alarms were set, and we both fell into sleep after several mumbled conversations. About what, I'd never be able to tell you.
10am careened through the window too quickly, and we left for the airport in a Michigan downpour. It was all bittersweet. The visit, the departure. It was the best time I've had since being out here, but I knew the farewell would be heart wrenching. It made me realize how alone I really am out here.
I talked to my mom for about an hour after returning from the airport. I cried for a good time after I hung up with her. I missed her, even though I'd seen her all day Mother's Day. I missed my home. I missed Vernon, as boring as it is. I missed my puppies and kitten, even though I had three kitties snuggling with me. I pictured my bags packed and leaving before they even woke up. Just leaving a note saying that I couldn't stay any longer.
It could have been perfect.
And it could have ended one of the longest friendships I've ever had.