all these feelings

I almost kissed him. 

He came to my house to give me back my stuff, and so that I could give him back all the things of his I’d found unpacking. He knocked on my door, asked if he could come in, we hugged, and I almost kissed him. I didn’t mean to do it, it was automatic. We pulled away and I raised my head to his and then I realized and we separated instead. I didn’t cry, just led him upstairs and gave him the bag of stuff I had for him. He gave me a grocery bag too, and then we went back downstairs into the kitchen for a couple of minutes. In a weird twist of events, the Comcast guy was also at my house, interrupting us with questions about where to hook things up and updates on his progress. We stood across from each other talking briefly about our days, what was going on.

He told me he’d hiked up to Cooper Spur a few days earlier, which for some reason broke my heart. How could he do that? I wondered to myself. How could he hike up to the top of the world, where it is so cold and desolate and beautiful when it was something that WE had done TOGETHER? How could he stand to be up there, looking out over Oregon and Washington and the Columbia River and all the mountains that stretch north in the Cascades. How. Just thinking about it breaks my heart, breaks my heart. I honestly can’t even think about taking a walk in the woods without feeling ripped open. I wonder if it’s something I’ll ever be able to do.

After a few minutes, he said he’d better be going and asked for one more "short" hug, but once we started I couldn’t let him go. I cried and breathed him in, not wanting to let go. "Sorry" I whispered to him, knowing that it was longer than he probably wanted, but not being able to stop myself. It has been so long since I’ve been held. So long since I’ve been held while I cry. Eventually he pulled away and I forced myself to let go. He didn’t say anything to me, just walked out the door and left. 

I pull myself together for the Comcast guy even though I just want to sit on my floor and wail and wail. When he leaves, I go upstairs and unpack the bag. One bottle of shampoo, one bottle of conditioner, season 1 of The Wire, a heating pad, a glass jar with about a gram of pot in it (a gift), his Portland Zine Symposium shirt that he never wore because it didn’t fit right, my snowpants, long underwear, and three hair ties. For some reason it was the hair ties that got me. Like he couldn’t stand to have even the tiniest reminder of me. This is what it comes down to.

So now we have completed the separation, everything returned to its rightful owner. And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that it fucking sucks. That the whole encounter took maybe ten minutes and I feel I may never recover. But I know that I will because I must, if for nothing else than because I have a shit ton of work to do today and I don’t have time for all these feelings.