Page One, Paragraph One. I Hate This Part.

Beginnings are difficult. The waiting, the wondering, the hoping, the feeling of going through your day with a lump in your throat. Did I say something wrong? Was I too me? Was I enough me?

It was easier with Tim, we met, we talked, we shared, and we spent each day afterwards together. Boom, bang. Simple. No pretense, no preamble, no waiting, no wondering, just two souls latching onto one another for dear life. That’s how it felt, and that’s how it was.

This one though, now he’s not going to be so simple. This one who shakes and moans, and makes the earth move underneath me – no, not so easy at all. Two days with him, and poof, back to Sarnia for two weeks. This will be the pattern for a few months to come, if I choose, or we choose, to join our paths together.

Today you know Mom, out on my stroll around town, I tried to keep the tears away, and I almost succeeded. Oh, damn it all, I hate this part. This waiting part, this wondering part, this hoping part. I don’t want to wait, I don’t want to wonder, I don’t want to just hope, I want to know. WHY can’t I just know? grrrrr.

I don’t need him though, but I do want him.

This morning I called him around 9:30, to invite him for a fried egg sandwich, or rather, I left a message on his landline machine, as he has no cell phone. I have as of yet received no reply, and the fried egg sandwich was otherwise delicious, as I topped it with Montréal smoked meat, some feta, with a dash of grainy dijon. Nummy.

Now, the last time I recall we were together was yesterday morning around 10, as he left from here in a bit of a rush, to do some stuff – get his hair cut, drop off props for a friends daughters school project (on the Titanic), laundry, and other stuff that I guess kept him occupied all the rest of the day, and the night. And today he leaves at some point to go back to Sarnia, and I haven’t heard from him yet, and I don’t know when his bus leaves. And maybe he got scared, and maybe he died, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he lied and he’s not who he says he is…but what? grrrr. I hate this part.

Do you think I scared him Mom? Probably. I’m one scary bitch you know. Well, sometimes…not usually, but.

Especially when the stars align. BOOOoooooOOOO…scarry be-yat-tch, and so this whole thing is all new to me too. I get it, I bolted last weekend after our tete-a-tete and cheek-to-cheek, so I get it. Oh God, yeah, I get it.

But rest assured, I’m a free entity, and I’m done with the weak-willed and the hardened hearts. I want someone who can look me in the eye, stare toe to toe, than choose to go forward, and with a deep breath use that fear as a catalyst towards the joy they know lies on the otherside. If not, they can go fish.

For now I’ll just have to occupy my soul with sitting my butt down, and writing. Angst and longing provided a good muse for delving into the realms of love, and what a chore and pleasure, it can be. I am puttering around with the sketch for a possible book, so that’s what I’m going to try to be doing all afternoon. Although, not before I go have a nice and long hot shower so I can warm the fuck up as the furnace has been spotty the last couple weeks. Right now it is 15 degrees Celsius…inside. Yes, there tis a wee bit of a brrrrr in the air. Neighbour called the landlord, but nada from that quarter as of yet.

So, I’m heading off to thaw.

Love you Mom,
Always

Paula

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