12:00 am - Monday, Jul. 28, 2003
Marcus is gone, just dropped him off
Well he's gone. The good news is that we're going to see eachother on August 21, which is less than 4 weeks from now. The bad news is that he's gone. I don't even know if 4 weeks is good news or bad news anymore. I just hate the way that I feel right now, hate the way I felt while I was driving from the airport to my dad's house where I am right now. Lonely. We didn't have a proper goodbye - he was late for his flight, so he just gave me a quick squeeze and off he flew through security. Gone. I walked back through the empty airport to the parking garage feeling uncompleted. The car still smelled like McDonalds - we got him something to eat before the flight. The seat was still warm. I felt like I was leaving something behind.
We had a wonderful trip together - not perfect, but wonderful anyway. The last weekend was pretty laid back. I've got a sinus infection, and Marcus is tired, so we hung around the house, sat on the patio and drank iced tea and beer, made dinner together, made love, and enjoyed the sunshine and eachother's company. I had alot planned for the weekend... Stanley Park, the Comedy Festival...walking the dogs... but neither he nor I felt up to it. But we had a busy week, and filled it with most of the stuff that we wanted to do. Today was a good day because we went to A&B sounds (big record store) and listened to cd's we had never heard of before... tried out all sorts of new stuff (they have a music bar where you bring the guy the cd you want to listen to, and you can sit in a comfy chair and wear a pair of headphones and listen to it). I found a great album by an African American jazz vocalist name Lizz Phair (spelling?) called "Salt" it's deep and sultry and blues-ey, and a good mix between India Arie and Billy Holiday. Marcus got some punk band from Sweeden that sounds .. like noise to me anyway, but I can appreciate their originality. We agreed that it didn't matter what we listened to, or if our musical preferences meshed...so long as neither of us were mainstream top 40 kind of people. Neither of us do that stuff too well, although at times I pick and choose from it. We think that as long as we have a real musical taste, be it punk or jazz or grass roots or whatever...then it works for us. We listened to the ecclectic songs of the Pumpkins though... we couldn't agree on my cd or his while we were driving :)
HOWEVER... We both agreed that our favorite part was the camping trip that we botched so horribly, but was still a brilliant time. We forgot everything at home - chairs, most of our food, a tarp, a table cloth, a cintronella candle, utensils, enough firewood. We went out to this campsite that was ages north of whistler with nothing but a tent and a couple of blankets, thinking that we could rough it...and we did. We did, and we took tons of pictures too :)
At the beginning of the trip we couldn't stop talking. Talking to fill the space, talking to fill the 8 weeks we spent apart, talking to remember eachother. I was trying to sell BC on him...he was talking about the pressure he feels from his dad. We talked it in to circles, and then, about two days ago, we stopped. Instead of talking, we sat in eachother's company and that was enough. I really found peace in that...not needing to say anything anymore. I fell more in love with him this trip than I ever have been before... and has it really been almost 2 years? It's hard to imagine such a big chunk of time. Loving somebody and being devoted to somebody for that long.
Things are okay with my family. Again, not great. But nobody's perfect, etc etc and I have to cut them some slack, and hope that they cut me some slack too. I find that I've changed enough to notice the difference when I am back at home. I'm not so accepting of my moms perspective - I'm starting to see the world differently, and I'm learning that it's okay to do that. I feel now that if I'm happy with my life, then my dad should be happy for me. But he never is. Sometimes I wonder if he forgot how to be a dad. Or if he ever knew. My brother has a lot of growing up to do - I've learned that, since I can really see that from the time I left home to now, I've grown up. I don't know what the defining moment was that it happened, but I really did. I'm grown.
And grown...speaking of grown... Jessica is just starting puberty, confided in heather that she's getting breasts (lord!!! 10!!!) and wants to start shaving her legs. Going into grade 5, likes boys, wants to go to dances, has self esteem problems, and I want to protect her from the world y'know? But I can't. God she's so old, and so wise for her age. She had a little show that she and a couple of her friends put on a few days ago, and raised money for the women's shelter. I was so proud of her. I miss her, I miss getting to know her as she grows up... an amazing young woman.
Hannah is going through her wild 7 year old stage, although it started when she was 3 and could well continue until she's 20. She loves Marcus, loves attention and loves compliments. And I love her, and I know she's going to do fine in this world. But I worry about both of them, wish I could do more from across the country. maybe send more cards? Little gifts? Who knows. Who knows.
I'm going to bed. I wish that I had more to say but I don't, I feel somewhat empty. I'm sure I'll be better tomorrow, after a good sleep. The rest of the week will go fast, and then I'll be back at work... back in the 'real world' although I'm sure that the last 3 weeks will go quickly enough. And then Alana's back, Marcus is back, school starts....life gets back to normal. I can't wait.
And by the way - this entry is 1070 words... and it only took me 18 minutes to write. I wish that I were that fast with my bloody essays...I'd be a star student!
