Vacations Remembered

Two years ago right now, I drove away from work, home, and family, and saw X for the first time after a long time. The day I drove ended with a migraine so massive I was able only to stop at the hotel vending machine for a blood sugar bump from Knotts Berry Farm strawberry jam cookies, and remember only landing on the pillow, perhaps not even stopping to pray that the headache would vacate before the morning, when we would finally see each other. I remember traffic, I remember the day, and yet, somehow, I can't accurately say I remember that drive much. I remember perfume the next morning, and the relief of a bath as I realized the headache was gone. I remember the weather was somewhat dreary.

I remember the shock of attraction when I finally saw X. The astonishment of being in the room with the warmth and immaculate scent of him, the way his fingers felt against mine.

Scraps of the day, passing an ad in a mall I passed again some days later, some hundreds of miles away - finding something to eat - going to see "Star Trek" - taking a break, while I took a nap because I had not really slept. Dinner, and the dark.

The sight of his eyes, and the blur of my own misted gaze. The sight of his own sorrow. The moment we had to say goodbye again.


Getting up in the morning, packing, leaving. Knowing nothing. Knowing everything I need. Grey and dreary. The drive easier. My head clear to the point of arid emptiness. Memory again. Already a memory again ...