Wishy Washy

What a fucking month!

So he is not coming. Decided, finalized, definite, or so it would appear. We’ve vacillated on this all summer long.

I have a confirmed floor to crash on in Eureka and one in Milwaukee.

I am waiting to hear on the Bismarck gig. Facing the most bitterly cold winter of my life would be an enormous sacrifice. Almost as much as leaving behind my “son”, my cat, and giving up having a bed. I did, by my terms, manage to skip winter last year. It was awesome. I shivered some nights, many nights actually, but in comparison to any Milwaukee winter, it never really was winter. There was one major snow storm and I spent an entire week with the help of 4 other people digging out our driveway. Then we spent days clearing up the disaster the trees left in the yard. Whoopteedoda, still not winter in my book. The weather was the same in May when I came home as it was when I left in February.

He is wise and grounded. The Captain knows us better than we do. It keeps echoing in the empty halls of my mind. Grounded, precisely what I need. Precisely what I am not. I have gotten better and better about integrating myself. Lovely boy, do you understand how my heart aches when there is a new knock on the door? There is a boy in Eureka who followed me home one night and I am physically attracted to him. I enjoy his company. We seem to be able to talk for hours. Simultaneously flooded with relief to be touched after 4 months and sadness that it was someone besides you laying next to me. I am puzzled why he calls me the next night when I refused to sleep with him. “Oh right,” I tell myself. “It’s just as good if everyone thinks he’s screwing me.” In any case, I fail to project him into my future. I feel only as a pretty, shiny thing to him. You, you see me as I truly am and still accept that. You are sometimes a better friend to me than I am to myself. I wait for you to send me letters and molasses and pecans. I think you were joshing. You still fail to believe I can love you. “Surely,” you think, “There is someone better than me, you just need to meet them. All we have is what we’ve got right now.”

I miss you. Insanely, crazily. Lately, work is the only thing that takes my mind off of you. I guess this is better than with the Captain. Actually, as we do the same work in different forests, he sends out spies, soldiers to check up on me. I am attempting to survey a long abandoned railroad grade miles from any source of water and suddenly there is a cloud of dragonflies around me. This now, this is a beautiful love. We’ve been apart, all of us, so apart for so long. I’ve witnessed nearly a complete cycle of seasons here at home. I am in complete shock that it is fall. What happened to the aspen meadows? I fell out of flow and missed the opportunity to go to Colorado. Stupid, stupid me.

He has been wounded and I am to blame. I blame myself. It hurts less than I imagined it would, but it still hurts. You seem indifferent. I could never see you again and it would be okay.

Please, I want to be in your circle. It feels SO GOOD. Am I selfish? There is safety, inspiration, power, peace, and serenity between you two. Forever it will be one of the happiest moments of my existence. It makes me want to come back for winter.

It seems as though all three of us are working towards this common existence we could share in the winter. We all look toward the same horizon I think. The Captain seems more traditional. That’s this younger girl I’ve dreamed about, my missing sister, Sarah….

But you are wise. You are now. You are the moment of the singularity event horizon. I am vomiting up 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1970s, trying to connect all my bloodlines and geographies, a growing homesickness for a place I have never lived in this life. I might have felt safe here, but there is a place I have always been happy, just across the river from you. There was a desperate dream of just getting there, just getting to be able to buy that farm, that trailer, that farmhouse. Closer than I had ever been to be able to get to the dream I think we’ve all been weaving, but… I give up and try to get to Santa Fe and end up here at the last frontier.

I forget about ships, and Galactic Federations and Guardian Alliances. I fail to translate your energy, but I want to bask in it, because it is the key that integrates all these times and places for me. Your are dispersed in all this time and space and you quench the thirst of a new born wanderer. It is more than drinking from your fountain, it is like basking for a cat nap in your sunlight. He was my sunlight, and I was merely an alpine wildflower, faded with the warmer, drier air of summer. “I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!”

Why did my angel get to leave the lonesome road? That will never happen, until it did. Will it ever happen for me?

I want one or the other of you, or both. Another besides you is beyond my conception. If I cannot be the mother of your children, I want to be the mother to your children.

If I were only in this complete nowness, could I let either of you go? Even if you neither have been in my past as others were. My future is all entwined around this common dream we have. Therein lay the initial attraction two years ago. My soul went AHA! old love was ending. And you are like those twilight evenings I wrote to my angel. He only set me back upon my path. You are that path.

No compromises and so we find ourselves alone so very often.

The truly wonderful… sooner rather than later. I want to hear you both say, “Let’s go there, tonight!” Please let us be ready soon!

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