Chill Out

"It's only the regathering and

going on

which lends substance

to whatever magic

might possibly

elvove."

-From Darkness by Charles Bukowski

I had to learn it the hard way.

It's been two days since I've gotten to talk to him.  It was made more frutrating by somehow getting to talk to everyone one else but him, especially when many of those people would bring him up. 

I had the day off today, and had nothing but time on my hands. I stayed up too late last night. I stayed in too long this morning. I called my mom this morning, hoping to be distracted. Shamefully, I even had to be shooed away from the computer. 

When I finally did walk out the door and drive downtown, I had a good time with taking pictures and meandering in and out of little shops, gusts of wind pushing my friend and I into the next store. I drove home slowly with the radio turned up loudly, having a new-found fondness for love songs that previously would make me roll my eyes. And in the middle of reading the Bukowski poem above, I fell asleep on the couch with my dog curled up next to me.

It's not about losing hope or trying to forget, but more about tempering that hope and being able to squeeze in other thoughts. This morning was not pretty and not fun. I've got to practice this until I can get it right, but trial and error have already showed me that thinking too much about him doesn't benefit either of us when the thinking turns to worrying. I need to learn how to save up all that I want to feel now, and feel it later when he's home. 

The thought of him being home, however, is something I give myself full permission to dwell on.