The biggest event that transpired since my last post (besides my Graves Disease coming out of remission - but that's another post) was Peter's three week visit with me, here in Atlanta. It passed like the blink of an eye and when our efforts to prolong the trip were financially thwarted (one way tickets are NOT half the cost of round trip) I begrudgingly took him to the airport this morning after a 5:30 a.m. wake up call. We sat silently holding hands most of the way, 'The Greatest' providing quiet accompaniment on our drive in the predawn hour. Having missed the cut off for baggage check, Peter missed his flight from Atlanta to San Francisco.... again. With the extra 20 minutes this gave us until his next flight, we sat with coffee and shared a bagel as I remarked about how natural it felt just being next to him before he left me for the security check line.
Oh my sweet Carolina.
Making my way back to the car, I felt fairly stable as opposed to the anguish I had been anticipating and I pressed the unlock button only once, glad not to be in tears. As I sat in morning rush hour, Love Is Hell began to play. Just three days prior, these songs had cascaded from the same speakers as they did now, but with Peter at the wheel and me beside him. He mentioned how the music complemented the scenery as we drove south on the Blue Ridge Parkway through the trees whose leaves were golden beneath the sun. This brought the first tears to my eyes. Upon arriving home, the coffee he had bought for me still in hand, I walked into my apartment which no longer carried any sign of his presence. Silently greeted by the pot and pan soaking from our romantic dinner just hours ago, the indentation in the sheets from where he had slept, the couch where we cuddled and watched movies; I was overwhelmed with sadness over how empty my home felt.
You were holdin' me, little honey, kissing my soul.
The last time I saw Peter this past August, we agreed that our experience with each other seems exponentially better with each trip and this was no exception. There comes a point for me in the early stages of relationships where the "flaws" that make a person human start to become visible beyond the veil of idealism through which I initially see a person. I thought for sure the terrified heart underlying the commitment-phobe in me would latch onto these things as it has in the past eliciting a sigh of relief, comforted by my old patterns. The patterns that create distance between me and another thus avoiding the risk of getting hurt. I feel triumphant that I was aware of this notion and consequently able to break through that internal wall in order to finally get to really involve myself in experiencing another person intimately. I am literally amazed that three weeks of constant contact left me wanting more. This is the first time that I've gotten my space back and was not relieved to have it all to myself again.
...when you're living in the darkness.
Peter and I got to do so much that we missed doing back in June which wrapped up yesterday with Dialog in the Dark which lets you explore an hour without sight. I always wonder which parts I'll remember more than others because they're always different than the moments I think I'll remember at the time. While he was here, we went to the Starlight Drive In, The Georgia Aquarium, Thrashers game, Dialog in the Dark, Agave, Thumbs Up Diner, The Brickstore, Asheville, Mt. Mitchell, Mt. Pisgah, Blue Ridge Parkway, camped, cooked wonderful dinners and breakfasts, wandered through the farmer's markets of DeKalb and Asheville, went for several walks, toasted marshmallows in the mountains and a lot of other stuff I won't mention.