I try to say
I miss you tonight
Teresa sent an email near the end of May in an attempt to introduce me to the people I would be staying with in Las Vegas during our little adventure. I remember looking at the picture at my desk in San Luis, my safe little spot with my plants and a few personal items scattered about. The faces that smiled in this photograph were all a little out of focus but I could clearly see O's grin apart from all others in that scene. I knew something then that I still believe today.
Two months have passed since the morning when we met in the parking garage and after only 20 minutes in the car she felt comfortable enough to put her feet up on the back of the front seat right next to my face. Those ridiculously long toes.
We're 7000 miles apart yet we talk every day. I put little notes in the post almost daily to let her know that she kept me up the night before. Riding past the box every morning on the way to work as if it were her locker and I was hoping to meet her some time during lunch to ask her if she wanted to go steady.
We talk every day even though it hurts to do so. Yet even with such separation of time and distance she still has just the right words and perfect inflection to calm me down when this all seems to overwhelm me.
I've come halfway across the world but my heart is still in apartment #c. Here in #202 the furniture is arranged just so that when she walks in this door she will have a comfortable spot to sit and watch the day begin. I've purchased two chairs for the table so that one day, months from now, we will be able to sit closer than 7000 miles apart and share a meal.
One drunken night in Santa Cruz I sat in my brother's room and cried for the confusion of all this. I cried because Brendan was going to be miles from me, and I cried because O would be too. But above all, I knew that both people who give me the most support would be absent through all of this. As scared and confused as I was, Brendan put his hand on my shoulder and said a few words to quell the anxiety. O came out after he had left and laid next to me for that was all she knew how to do in that night. In the morning, she looked at me with eyes that spoke the entirety of her heart and I needed nothing more. Walking away from Brendan that afternoon she held my hand as I shed a few last tears for the absence of my brother. And I needed her more than ever that day.
She slept most of the drive to San Luis. At one point she stirred and I mentioned where we were. She told me she knew, as if she had been paying attention all along and not drooling on my sweatshirt that was her pillow for the afternoon. She never would admit to not knowing the way.
We turned a corner that weekend and we'll never go back. As hard as it was to travel under such duress, we strode through the strife together and were emboldened by it. Now we just have learn to live like this, being apart longer than we've been together. I know it will be hard because it has already been more excruciating than I had expected.
I have this picture in my inbox. It's a couple of Teresa's friends grinning like drunken fools. And it is of the woman that I love. The one in apartment #c.
If I never said it before, I'm sorry for the whole blow-gun thing Brendan. I'd like to say it was Mike's idea, but I'm sure I played a part in getting you to be our test dummy that afternoon years ago. It was easy to think you were a king when your entire world didn't stretch past the end of the block.
Two months have passed since the morning when we met in the parking garage and after only 20 minutes in the car she felt comfortable enough to put her feet up on the back of the front seat right next to my face. Those ridiculously long toes.
We're 7000 miles apart yet we talk every day. I put little notes in the post almost daily to let her know that she kept me up the night before. Riding past the box every morning on the way to work as if it were her locker and I was hoping to meet her some time during lunch to ask her if she wanted to go steady.
We talk every day even though it hurts to do so. Yet even with such separation of time and distance she still has just the right words and perfect inflection to calm me down when this all seems to overwhelm me.
I've come halfway across the world but my heart is still in apartment #c. Here in #202 the furniture is arranged just so that when she walks in this door she will have a comfortable spot to sit and watch the day begin. I've purchased two chairs for the table so that one day, months from now, we will be able to sit closer than 7000 miles apart and share a meal.
One drunken night in Santa Cruz I sat in my brother's room and cried for the confusion of all this. I cried because Brendan was going to be miles from me, and I cried because O would be too. But above all, I knew that both people who give me the most support would be absent through all of this. As scared and confused as I was, Brendan put his hand on my shoulder and said a few words to quell the anxiety. O came out after he had left and laid next to me for that was all she knew how to do in that night. In the morning, she looked at me with eyes that spoke the entirety of her heart and I needed nothing more. Walking away from Brendan that afternoon she held my hand as I shed a few last tears for the absence of my brother. And I needed her more than ever that day.
She slept most of the drive to San Luis. At one point she stirred and I mentioned where we were. She told me she knew, as if she had been paying attention all along and not drooling on my sweatshirt that was her pillow for the afternoon. She never would admit to not knowing the way.
We turned a corner that weekend and we'll never go back. As hard as it was to travel under such duress, we strode through the strife together and were emboldened by it. Now we just have learn to live like this, being apart longer than we've been together. I know it will be hard because it has already been more excruciating than I had expected.
I have this picture in my inbox. It's a couple of Teresa's friends grinning like drunken fools. And it is of the woman that I love. The one in apartment #c.
If I never said it before, I'm sorry for the whole blow-gun thing Brendan. I'd like to say it was Mike's idea, but I'm sure I played a part in getting you to be our test dummy that afternoon years ago. It was easy to think you were a king when your entire world didn't stretch past the end of the block.
Devin thought this was worth your time
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