I was already at a place he and I would visit. We would sip good beer. Me and IPA – he a barley wine.
We would sit knee to knee at the bar – looking at the list of beers – talking about life – and sip our beer.
I decided last minute to go to an erotic art munch. G commented that it would be a place I love – this place with 100 beers on tap and good food. I left late, hoping that would translate into me getting there with people I know.
Instead it meant I went into a place alone – while Warren Zevon was playing – and I sat at a place at the bar we always sat.
I texted G a question, “what the fuck am I doing here?” Then I explained why I was saying this.
He encouraged me to stay – the was like “come home if you want – I have a fire – and stew – and beer.
I ended up staying.
Even though Warren Zevon was playing.
And the beer reminded me of him too as I scanned it, without realizing it, for something he would drink.
“You said you need to get out more,” G reminded me.
But fuck me.
I never expected it. Warren Zevon on the jukebox. Beer that reminded me of him.
What am I doing?
I don’t know.
Trying to embrace the good stuff while my emotions try to drag me into the dark stuff.
The dark stuff – missing the person I love. Missing the time where I don’t have to be Mom or daughter or wife – but get to be me.
As I told G earlier – I don’t fucking know what I need anymore. I know what I miss. I miss moments of not having to be mom – or wife – or housewife. I miss being able to push aside all of my worries and just be me. I miss having someone who cares outside of him – someone who doesn’t want me to be alone – but wants to be there. I miss that all. I miss intimacy and understanding and someone who understands me.