I can’t remember why I thought I needed some time to myself. It was not that I wanted time without her – that’s different – just time to myself. It would be good to get away – get lost inside my own head for the 6 hours it took to drive from here to there. To decompress. I could contemplate in uninterrupted certainty all the things that randomly crowd my mind – a road trip meditation of sorts. It would be good for me. It would be good for us.
About one hour into the drive – past the congestion and construction of the city – I was starting to feel a quiet panic. A twinge of doubt bubbled up and soaked through the confidence of my easy rider alter ego and I felt a little sick. Adele tried to soothe me with her magical voice and rolling blue skies outlined the road I was traveling – but something was not right. Was I doing the right thing? What was I doing out here all alone on the open road when I had the perfect traveling partner one hundred miles behind me? Was that the 14th Wisconsin State Trooper I saw in the past 30 minutes pulling over another unsuspecting traveler? What was I thinking??
I was glancing at my rear view mirror and it hit me. I started to realize that I was driving further and further away from her. It was not about what I was driving towards – not the weekend in a new city with an amazing friend. Not the chance to see places I had not seen before and taste foods I had not tasted before – it was not any of those things. It was the realization that I was thinking about missing her and the sweet embrace of her company. It was the idea that I was missing her and I had not even gone 100 miles. Who was I? What did I do with all my cool? There were not enough Combos and Swedish Fish in the world to take my mind off of the unavoidable truth – I was head over heels lost in a peaceful kind of love – and I was driving away in the opposite direction.
Two days into my weekend away and I missed her still. It was not the texting and calling and tracking her every move kind of missing. It was the kind of missing that I found in the quiet corners of my day as I found myself wondering about her mouth, about her hands, about her trouble making little voice. It was about not being able to sleep without the soft sounds of her breath rocking me into sweet dreams. I found myself missing her presence – it was as simple as that – her presence in my every day was missing and that understanding had created an undeniable void. It was disarmingly reassuring and uncomfortably comforting to realize that she was not just my future wife – but she was a part of me now – a living breathing part of my very existence no matter how many days and miles kept us apart.
Ultimately, driving away from her brought me closer to her – and maybe the little Irish poet who lives in my little Irish heart needed to be reminded of the amazing possibilities love and vulnerability can bring to our silly little lives. Maybe once in a while we all need to be reminded that the closer we are to love the farther we can travel – with or without the open road.
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About K. Guzman
Kathy grew up all over the US - lots of east coast time. She is a surfer girl with an unabridged curiosity. A woman whose mid life awakening continues to bring her to the place she was meant to be. Her degree in Journalism/Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida is being yanked from the archives and put to good use. Her two kids are grown and rock stars in this wild world – her Harley is ready for some serious summer miles – and her heart remains open to life, women and the possibilities each day brings.