At about this moment, J's plane is touching down in Norway. He left at 8am, so ~16 hours, yeah? Yeah.

Yesterday he was supposed to get back from Tahoe around 2-4, and we'd have a little time to see each other. I thought his flight was later that night. Because of a mix-up with rides, he ended up not getting in till 10. I'd been waiting--it was worth waiting to get to see him before he left, and afterwards I was going to my parents' house like I usually do on Sunday for dinner and laundry.

Going to my parents' house on Sundays has become an important ritual. Like church, but a firm I-love-you instead of a dubious/fake I-believe. Not going to their house on Sunday indicates some sort of shameful laziness, bad prioritizing, or extenuating circumstance. Even if I have no actual business with them, we have dinner. It's important.

So I'd been putting this off until I saw him, but it was getting late and I had laundry to do, and I was starting to feel a little heart-weary. You know, I really quite wanted to see him--this fell under the 'extenuating circumstances' category--and for no logical reason I was feeling personally slighted that he wasn't leaving himself enough time to see me before he had to leave. I mean, how late could his flight be? It's international. He won't have time to stop by or even ask me to stop by. I imagined scenarios in which he wouldn't even call to say goodbye--if he's in a hurry, he ought to at least have time for a one-minute call, right?--and the next I hear from him is a group email.

And time crept on. I did things, but really I was waiting. It became 9:30, and I said, okay, it's too late. I won't be able to see him, and if I'm going to my parents' house, I have to go now. I had his swim trunks; aside from them being a possession of his that should be returned, they had sort of become a guarantee that we would see each other again before he left.

-...I want to see you before I go.
-Yeah. And I still have your swim trunks.

So I went, okay. I'll just drop off his swim trunks with his parents and that will be that. I thought even maybe that he'd already left to catch his flight--that I'd arrive to an empty house and I'd have to leave them on the doorstep. Then at least his parents could ship them to him with his other stuff. I left a note in the pocket, a postcard of a photograph of water [to symbolize the oceans that would separate us, good god], written on the back "Fare Thee Well. D." So he can have that. Bastard.

When I got to his house, his parents were home. His mom and Monty the dog answered the door. Monty normally wags and frisks in place when asked to stay, but he saw me there in the door and he sat in response to my sadness. Heart-weary. As I talked with J's mom, Monty came slowly over and licked my hand--not his normal Yay you're a person! licks but 'here, let me lick off some of your sadness.'

I'd forgotten his mom's first name, and she certainly wasn't 'Ms. M', so I called her mom. She looked mildly surprised/amused, but could tell I just wasn't in the mood for social niceties. She was also touched. I like her.

Spoken dialogue:
-He isn't here yet.
-I know. But it was getting late, and I wanted to drop these off. (hands her shorts)
-Oh. These belong to Johannes?
-Yeah.
-Well, okay. I'll make sure these get to him.
-Okay.
-Have a good night.
-You too.

Unspoken:
-Sigh.
-Oh gosh you look so sad. Are you okay?
-Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. I just wish I could have seen him.
-I know. It sucks. I understand.
-It's okay. Here's the token.
-Oh no. I'm so sorry. We really like you.
-Thanks. I'll miss him.
-I know.

So I got in my car and started driving down the road. Breathed a few tears away. My phone rings, and my foolish heart wishes wildly that it's him.

My foolish heart is wise.

-Hey, talk about timing. I just left your house.
-I know, my mom told me. I called to say we just got in to Berkeley, and she was like, Oh no Delphi just left! and I was like Oh my god! I was trying to catch you in time.
-Well... I haven't got on the freeway. (That means I can't see my parents tonight. Dangit. That's okay, they'll understand.)

So I pick him up at Y's house and bring him back. He is genuinely glad to see me and relieved that he caught me (and how could I have doubted that he would make an effort to see me?). We are at his parents' house and I love the way that he is comfortable with his parents. We go downstairs to his bedroom and as we talk about what he has left to do, we inch closer and closer and into each other's arms. Psychologically, I resist, and he calls me on it.

-You're being protective.
-I know.
-You don't have to do that.
-I'll have to do it tomorrow.
-I'll still email.
-Yeah.

And we just love each other. It is holy the way we put our faces against each other. It is unbelievable how precious he is.

I have to speculate
that God himself did make
us into corresponding shapes
like puzzle pieces from the clay.
(the postal service)

For a moment I see his beard is grey and his arm is old and we are lying here old. His cheek against mine is like years of being in bed together.

And eventually I have to go. I go. It is not like he's dying.

We expect more from each other.

11:49 p.m. 2004-01-12�