HOW TO NOT BE WITH YOU - packing it up once and for all...

Monday and Tuesday were largely spent boxing things up; finalizing financials; making sure “the ominous pod” arrived. I attempted to have some quality time with folks, but time really was not too kind. I did, however, get to spend a little bit of time with a former ex (is there any other kind?)…and his new partner. It was only fitting that he and I reconnect for one brief shining moment known as Camelot. Michael, or Mr. Mike, as he would become known to me, was a brief glint at understanding whom I was meant to be; we had a torrid love affair, brief and fulfilling all at once. We never lost touch, never kept each other at bay; we just simply knew from the get go that we were not meant to be.
We reunited at Baxter’s, the one and only gay bar left in Wilmington, on the cusp of Greenville…the gay contingency’s attempt at opulence…in vain, of course. Michael, and his partner Greg, whom I’d met in Rehoboth a few summers back, welcomed me heartily. Mr. Mike looked good, despite his difficulties with job problems and lawsuits he was undergoing, but it was wonderful to see him; his partner Greg and I spent some time outside having a smoke, and I encouraged Greg, a visual artist, to pursue his craft. I told him about the serendipity I had encountered by following my heart, and he was enthused. As a friend had told me, I asked him to “act courageously, and you will attract mighty forces to your aid.”
Humph. Here I was encouraging my former lover’s new partner to pursue his bliss. Oh the irony.
Still, Greg was duly moved, and I knew that God had brought us together for a reason; I have often heard Mr. Mike say how difficult it is to live with an artist.
Honey, he don’t know the half.
Our time well spent, our farewells intact, we bid each other adieu, knowing that we would remain, however oddly, connected. They say life is a journey; but what they don’t say is: it’s a crazy, bewildering mixed up one. I was grateful for the time together…and the distraction from the obvious:
FINISHING PACKING.
I had hours to go…and miles to go before I slept. I returned to the apartment, and – of course – distracted myself for hours on Facebook. Why not indulge myself one last time. Tomorrow, Tuesday, was going to be full enough…there was a Farewell party for me to attend. How pompous of me to think that I could finish packing in such short shrift…
…and yet, as determined as I was, I knew that I could do it.