A Room at the Inn

I entered what was our room, and just stared. Just moments before you were there, laying as you do under the sheets, your smile bringing my body to life. In the culmination of a wonderful couple of weeks spent mostly together, the end had come and you have left . Again.

I have learned to survive such things in blocks of weeks. This would be just another block of weeks, another moment in our time, another mixture of one’s fear of jumping would be tested by one’s fear of standing still. It’s a story we know well, and though the union of our spaces seems so much closer than it has before, the empty chill of our separation remains as stark as it ever was.

I took a deep breath as the transition took hold in my soul. The room we shared, the room that we had made “our space” had suddenly become just another room in the inn. The tornado that is you, whirling around in the space full of worry about making your flight, about time you had left to get there, had been with replaced with a peace I simply could not cherish. I love the chaos that is you, that mixture of heart and mind, presence and worry all wrapped into one beautiful experience.

One deep breath was replaced by another, joined with a selfish wish made into the ether. I just wanted to sit in that room, feel you moving intently while only stopping briefly to kiss me or touch my hand. I wanted to call out to you and hear you answer, but I knew today there’d be only silence. I wanted another walk around Coot Lake to see your wonder at the mountains that brought me here, and listen to you breathe in the clear, clean air. I wanted dragonflies to capture your attention while you danced to the song of geese landing safely in a splash. I wanted to hear you make an agreement with the Universe, that “if” a bird, a dog, a sign of some sort crossed your path…and that peace that followed your joy as that agreement was fulfilled. I wanted to see you easily finish a loop that once challenged you, and have you want to share that space with those you love who have never been blessed with that amazement.

Today, however, there was only my breath in an empty room at the inn. I could hear the songbirds just outside the open window, and I wished you could hear them too. I swear I could smell you in the room, and that memory brought a subtle tear that gave life to others. I have such joy in our love, in our union, and in our moments shared, but I also feel such pain in the parting, in the weeks between our touches, in the gaps between our words.

I know I am not supposed to. I know I am supposed to focus only on the joy, on the blessing that is “us”. I know that I am to honor this growth, this slow, aching sunrise breaking dawn upon our shared horizon. I pay homage to all of that, but it’s only a part of the story I am writing. I trust my heart, my soul, and they break in every kiss and hug goodbye, and that story must be told as well. There is such a beauty in that breaking. It reminds me of the truth that we, the you and me who flirted with togetherness and then made it happen, have so much possibility ahead.

The “ahead” is now being replaced by the present silence in the room. I put my head on the pillow where you laid, and inhale the scent of you. I notice a strand of your hair laying lonely on the pillowcase, teasing me with a memory of the morning. I remembered the few times I woke up to involuntarily apologize for my snoring, always taking the sight of you in my heart. I remembered the 4:30 AM thunderstorm that woke me for the morning, and the hours spent just soaking in the moment. A flash of lighting would splash below the blinds in our room, and the crash of thunder would echo in our chamber. I could remember you laying where I now am playing with that strand of your hair you’d left to tease me. I could feel you as if you were laying right there next to me.

That has been my journey, sweet beloved. At first I could just ignore it. I was fine in my solitude and my aloofness, and ignored the voice that demanded I change it. Then I began to slip toward surrender, knowing full well the shadows I’d pushed into the basement of my mind would now have their due. Finally, I surrendered in a vision on Mt. Sanitas, and gave my heart its full attention, and those shadows their moment in the sun. Though once honoring the aloof-child within me, then the falling into the angel’s arms, and then the sweet surrender to this certain truth, my heart has always pained in your absence, and broken a bit in your departure. The wonder, for me, was not just in the realization of the soul in you that spawned this process, but the desire to continue while in the throes of it. I have never discovered resurrection without the suffering, and I have never found wonder without a risk. I will endure because I love you, and because I trust the compass that directed us together.

For now, I will hope you take those little pieces of my heart with you as a reminder of the man you leave behind, and that you put them back in the hug and kiss sure to come when we meet again.

It was time for me to leave the room at the inn. I laid the strand of hair where you left it, and said a prayerful goodbye to the moment. I could feel a wave of steely purpose pour over me, a trick life had taught me long ago. Yet, despite the self-protection I , I could still feel the pulsing desire to love you, to weather the storm, and to realize all we’ve come to know since the moment we first met. I will endure until you decide to stay, and we make a life together.

I opened the door to leave and took one last look around, the images beginning to fade as time took hold of my mind. There was a day to live and responsibilities to fulfill, and a familiar weight to bear, and a story to write before the workday began. There would be poetry to come, breaths and words to share with you, and silence to manage until we meet again. I realize in that moment it is not in the parting that I find sadness, but in the absence of your presence. The difference is subtle, but to me so very real.

We both know this is a wonderful thing we share, this love, this breath, the side-by-side footprints we leave in the earth. I am not complaining as much as I am giving life to what is in the empty spaces left by our departures, the full truth of a story so worth telling. The pain felt writes words of honor to you in the pages of my heart. The longing swears an oath to you in the emptiness of this room. Both the yin and the yang of this story must be told in the completeness of the cycle that is love.

I turn to breathe one last sigh while the door clicks closed behind me. I don’t look back, it serves no purpose for me now. Instead, I hope for your safe journey and the blessing of our return to togetherness again, in a room at some other inn, at some other time. I can’t help but smile in that hope.