Tuesday night I had a fretful time falling to sleep and dreamt of my ex-fiance when I finally nodded off. Not knowing he'd left a voicemail on my charging and therefore turned off cell phone shortly before I went to bed. There's a vein in my life of mild clairvoyance. Awareness of things in my world prior to them actually making themselves known.
But that isn't what this is about. This is about Nate, or to Nate, or for Nate, though he'll never read it (unless I am struck with selfish meanness and send it to him.)
When we were talking yesterday it felt like old times- just you and me on the phone. It felt good and I wanted to talk to you more. What can I say- I didn't leave because I didn't love you. I left because I was homesick and having cold-feet anxiety attacks that got worse and worse and I couldn't make them stop.
After I left I wanted to talk you but I was afraid of what you might say, I didn't know what to say, and I decided to suppress any desire to talk to you because I had caused you enough pain; in other words, I thought, I left and now I have to stick by my decision-if I start changing my mind it's only going to be cruel to Nate. As if the way I left wasn't cruel but at the time it was all I could do and in the immediate weeks after I left I was in shock my self.
It's only now, five months down the road, that the dust is clearing and I am thinking Oh my God, I just up and left? I can't believe I made you wake up into - finding your fiance gone. What hell that must have been.
You see, for all the things I thought were problems, I got all wrapped up in myself.
I loved you. I got so scared and caught up in it that I forgot the importance of how I still loved to sit on your lap and cuddle, to make you nourishing dinners and cinnamon rolls, to cuddle you when you came to bed in the morning, to sit at your feet and watch dvd series together while you played with my hair, to watch your expressions at the movie theater, to hold hands and rub feet under your parents dining room table, to ride somewhere listening to Car Talk or short stories on NPR, to snuggle with you after sex, to wash your hair in the shower, to go grocery shopping with you, to go for walks and listen to your stories, to skip over to Gifford's or Soup for You or the Homestead in the morning for breakfast before you went to sleep, to be there when you woke up, to go camping or hiking, to make out any old place, (including sex in your front seat at the drive-in theater on my birthday), to have Christmas and Thanksgiving with you, to stack the wood you split in the cold air.
Everything we did together- miniature golf, bowling, driving range, cooking, WalMart, ordering out, staying in- we had fun together. Every thing. How did I lose the importance of that? When did I stop asking you to go for a walk or to play cards? When did we stop getting naked all over one another outside?
I miss your parents and your brothers and sisters and your grandparents. I missed Jebediah graduating high school. I missed celebrating your black belt with you.
I sometimes wonder, what would have changed if I'd gone to church with you that last Sunday or if I'd tried to talk to Father Roger about my fears.
I had a rough summer- I was very suicidal for a while and depressed but I brought it on myself- who knows what you went through because of me. I'd been doing okay, moving on, but talking to you yesterday made me want to talk to you again.