I deposited The Southern Gentleman at the airport about an hour ago.
Once again, I felt this pit in my stomach this morning. A gaping empty pit of dread that only grows as the hour of his departure drew closer. I fought back the tears that appeared out of nowhere. I hate that I feel so emotional about his leaving. In the car ride, we were both fairly silent until I told him that this was the part I hated most - his leaving. The Southern Gentleman told me not to be sad in his drawl dripping voice which instantly brings a smile to my face.
But it is the leaving. Leaving with more questions than answers. Leaving with bits of story lines. Understanding of what parts make up the whole. But at the end of it all, he still leaves. The leaving gets me every time.
He confided in me a lot this go-round. He started many stories with "I haven't even told my dad this..." and that is huge coming from him. But even though he can confide me in me, it still isn't enough. Even though The Southern Gentleman told me that he wishes he could have stayed longer, that next time he will stay a week, it still isn't enough.
I am trying so hard not to look through cynical tinted glasses, but it is hard. damn hard. Maybe a glass of wine and a soap opera will make things look a bit brighter.
I will also work on recounting our days together, that always helps a bit too.