I.
I wake up in the dark. Drive into the canyon and pick up S. Get to try ER right on time. Put on gloves.
I wake up in the dark. My alarm hasn't gone off yet. I'm thinking about him, can't sleep, don't want to start thinking about what it means to be apart for so long. Five weeks in eight months. Boyfriend, I say. Yes, he's my boyfriend. How novel.
I wake up in the dark. The wind is ripping outside of the tent, rain running in little rivers under the corners. I light the stove.
II.
I fell in love, but now I just feel tired. He's not here to share the little pieces of the day. I realize that this is the most important part of the relationship, the details that make it. I like the drudgery, the normalcy, the coffee and the same-ness. I like the being on the road with one another. I like the snuggling. I like the sex.
No phone contact, sporadic e-mails, repeating the same sweet phrases until they give me a toothache. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person who can take "I love you" and "I miss you" and turn them into doubt. For once, I just want the simple.
Exactly one month from today and I pick him up in Denver. Lordy.
