rooms with views.

J Jenks has come and gone, and I once again feeling stranded on Gilligan's Island, less a Ginger to keep me company. And less a wedding folder to contribute to, 'cause I deleted it (explanation to follow: don't panic). Shit bricks!

I'm not a master of goodbyes. I spent the entire weekend reminding myself to not think about the fact that I'd have to put boyfriend back on a plane early Sunday morning. We got to the airport, I paid for the parking and held my breath for the moment I'd been dreading since Friday night, when I picked him up. I ignored the urge to pass the airport and make him miss his plane. I am now an unofficial fan of YYJ. But I held it together; I kept the tears in and swallowed the sick feeling that swelled up into my throat every 30 seconds like clockwork. I hid my shaking hands. A hug, a kiss and then off to go through security. I didn't want to look back because I knew I'd break down, but I did anyways. I didn't see him. My face felt hot as I walked towards the exit marked "arrivals" and stepped through puddles on my way to the car.

And then I just sat there, staring at my steering wheel. I sat there for a good 10 minutes, wondering why I've done this to myself. Knowing that every time I say goodbye, it'll be weeks before I say hello again. Worrying if we'll be the same people every time we step off the plane. And then I started the car and headed home, and I was good for a while. I made it about halfway before the tears had finally been built up beyond controlling anymore, and they came pouring out like an early morning rain. I cried until I got home, and then some, and so I lay in bed and just let myself cry until I fell asleep. I'm not a master of goodbyes. I won't ever be.

I am left, however, with the memory of an amazing weekend together. My house dances with the spirit of two people in love, there's foreign drool on the pillow next to mine and I have a collection of empty pop cans under the sink that I didn't consume. There's a receipt on my desk with his name on it from a credit card transaction and I can drive by Ross Bay Cemetery and think "that's not his family in there - we looked" and when I turned on my TV after he had been gone two days the channel was still set to TSN. I am left with the promise of the future - our future - and the knowledge that in 5 short weeks, we'll have another weekend to make memories. And in 11 long months, we'll have a lifetime of weekends together, if we want.

And so is the reasoning behind casting away all of the little wedding snippets I'd gathered. I can't sit at my computer and obsess over wedding invitations for dates that I've crossed my fingers I'd be engaged for - it's too taxing on my emotions in a way that I can't find words to explain. I am unofficially engaged to the most amazing man who, in a year from now, I can only keep my fingers crossed will still want me in the same way. And then some day it'll be official, and I can get officially excited, and make all of my official little plans and officially tell everybody I know that "I am going to be a wife!" Because to unofficially throw things together takes the excitement out of something being real and current - who knows, it might even be bad luck. My heart can wait and will wait for as long as it has to for someone to play for keeps. I have learned the patience of glaciers in my old age.

P.S. The Ikea 2010 catalogue is here! The Ikea 2010 catalogue is here!