Craig and Julie out on the town.
A week ago I was trying to figure out what still needed to be done. I got home and put on my PJ's. My laundry wasn't done, there were dishes in the sink, things were pretty untidy and I was just too tired to do anything about any of it. I decided to get a good night's sleep and finish cleaning in the morning. Sitting in bed watching Doctor Who and making a mental list of all the thing I was going to do in the morning I heard my door bell ring. Nobody rings my doorbell except the sister missionaries and they aren't out at 11:30pm.
Wait. Let's back-track a bit. As of the last post I left, Craig was meant to be on his way from KAF (Kandahar Air Field) to Germany or Italy or some other place in Europe. I was all in a dither and going a bit wiggy. A day passed without word but I wasn't letting it worry me. I kept cleaning and running and pushing past my own procrastination. Then another day passed without word and it was starting to get to me. Then another and that was when bad thoughts started to have traffic accidents in my head. (This usually happens when I haven't heard from him in a week.) What if he's been hurt? What if he doesn't want to see me? What if he's lost or stranded and can't call? What if he's fallen down a ravine or chasm and a boulder or other large object has fallen on his arm and he can't get to his cell phone and he has to slowly cut off his own arm? As you can see the longer I go without contact the crazier and less likely the scenarios become. By Wednesday night I'd been eight days since last I'd heard from him and the boulder scene was where my brain had traveled.
So, there I was, enjoying an very good episode of Doctor Who and trying not to beat myself up after my comedy hosting gig at Muse Cafe when the doorbell rang it's weak little ding dong and my heart skipped a beat. Late night visitors aren't a good thing but my heart kinda knew that this was no ordinary visitor. I walked to the door and there he was. Standing on my porch. In my city. Right in front of my eyes. I imagined seeing him over and over again in my head and still I was shocked.
Standing there, front door open I turned and darted back into my apartment.
"You're here. You're really here." I repeated over and over again.
"Yup." Was his answer.
I had left the screen door shut and locked and left him standing on my porch while I absent-mindedly moved things pointlessly around my apartment. All the while repeating the mantra;
"You're here. You're here."
He replied; "Yes. I'm here. Can I come in?"
I quickly turned, unlocked the door and put my arms around his neck. He lifted me up and held me there. Squeezing me until he decided he needed to put me down and kiss me. He put me down on the step by my door so that we were eye-level with one another. He put his hands on either side of my face, looked at me like he hadn't seen me in 6 months (and he hadn't) and just layed one on me. One of those long, slow kisses that just doesn't want to ended. It did end and the spell was broken. That's when my neuroses kicked in the door to my brain and I again started pacing around my apartment picking things up and putting them away babbling;
"I'm not ready. Things were going to be ready. You're early."
I couldn't look at him. It all felt like a dream and if I looked at things too much or payed too close attention to the details I would wake up and it would all disappear. He finally grabbed my hands and took the clothes out of them.
"It's such a mess." I said.
"You think I really noticed? All I can see is you. Sit down."
I sat and let his deep baritone glide down my insides like the pepto-bismol in commercials from my childhood. I sat there for a while breathing him, trying not to move or disturb this perfect moment and when it was just right he moved and took off his shoes and we lay down together.
We stayed up all night talking and well..Not talking as well. It was a perfect moment in time that even the oppressive sun in all it's smug glory couldn't break it. We got out of bed and had breakfast and planned what we wanted next. And we began again, afraid to admit that we couldn't pick up where we had left off but also thankful that wherever we were, it was still wonderful.
