A Living Magazine - Day 238 - Homecoming - Charlotte: Single On Valentine's Day

I woke up and fell back asleep again until about 7:30  a.m., way too late. Still, I got packed up and out of there without being seen. At this point I almost want to be noticed! It would add a bit of spice to this Charlotte experience. But I'm not reckless enough to try.

It was Valentine's Day. A gloomy fact I was reminded of after walking by a stand selling roses. I almost bought one for Saggy. I went to the Harris Teeter market and bought a donut and coffee, then got online and worked on a new post. I was getting the evil you've-been-here-too-long look from the custodian who moved me "along" some days ago. And, I decided to move myself along before she got to me.

It was after noon when I left. As if to rub salt into my single man's wounds, there were couples everywhere, laughing and hugging and kissing. I don't know. Maybe they weren't everywhere, but they seemed to fill up every corner of my vision. I didn't know where to go. I'd received a donation from an old neighborhood friend--a first time donor, and it was enough for a room the next day and night.

I'd planned to leave on Monday (that next day), but the weather had different plans for me. It was due to snow and then rain. If I was going to move on, I didn't want a wet tent. The donation was perfect timing. I had messaged Joyce before leaving the market and she tried to set up the room at the Super 8 which I also reserved at that point. I wouldn't have confirmation that they would take my ID until the next morning, but reserving the room didn't cost me anything and I could still cancel by 6:00 p.m. the next day without being charged.

There were roses everywhere. People walked by arm in arm, even the dogs had roses in their harnesses. What a day to be without someone. My mom had sent me a Valentine's email. She never forgets me on this day. Even when I lived in Maine, she'd send a card from wherever she was to let me know I was on her mind. She is very sweet like that. She has been my only Valentine for over a decade.

I'm not sure what it is about myself. I prefer to be alone, and then almost resent seeing people who aren't alone. The touch of a hand in mine; the warmth of knowing I will spend the evening with someone I love; the idea of being wanted... It was all very unreal now. I get the feeling sometimes that I'm supposed to be asexual. Love didn't work out for me when I expected to spend my life with someone. I had one greatest love in my life and she was lost in the storm of chaos that I created a long long time ago. She has since gotten married and seems very happy. Fate is a rough thing. It is so real, yet it is often what I would have written as fiction at an earlier age.

Even on this day as I watched lovers simply being together, I could think of no one but her. The mistake I made still picks my heart pockets clean. It steals the future just as it did nearly two decades ago. I made a decision knowing that the risks might include a life of solitary confinement. Now I was supposed to just accept it. But I have never accepted it. I will never accept it.

There is a beautiful phantom where my love used to walk beside me. There is only sun and the shadow of tree branches on the spot where her butterfly-eyes used to open in the morning and peer into mine. There is only a blank place where her smile used to light up my days. 

Am I just the tragic figure? And, is the tragedy the whole story? I have been alone so long now that surely I should be discarding the idea that anyone else will ever occupy the open space in my heart that I have reserved for her. What greater cliche could be foisted upon a weary traveler? Believe me when I say that there are certain decisions we make that leave no way home. In a sense, by being on this Journey and trying to go home I am met full-faced by the possibility that there may be no place left for me in Maine. Perhaps I am trying to go back to my love. I know that sounds crazy. But what the hell am I doing that doesn't sound crazy these days?

Sometimes, just before sleep I think that I'm not alone. It is like no time has passed. She is with me, as she has always been--so I say to myself. When we agreed we'd love each other even as we parted--that love would never die for us, I took it seriously. And, when I dream of her, we continue on. I suppose that every night I hope she will be with me in those dreams, even if she is only a wishful thought projection. She doesn't even have to be aware of me in the waking world. God knows, she doesn't ever even give it a thought. 

What a team two people can be. I looked at my partner and then looked away. And when I turned back to her, her image began to fade. If I squint, and the light is just right - in the evening when I imagine that I am in the backyard of our little apartment down by the waterfront in Portland, Maine, and the orange clouds roll out to sea above the plum blossoms in the spring - she is still there smiling. I'm not sure the image will ever fade completely.

The sky was a milky washed-out version of tears drying on a tissue. The sun could not be seen. And, without a watch I wouldn't have noticed how quickly the hours had passed. An overcast daydream. Valentine's day had never affected me like it did on this day. 

I went to Nova*s and bought my hot chocolate. There was a young couple in the table next to mine. They were on a first date. She was pretty, dark-haired, with a pointed knit hat on and a thick North Carolina accent, talking about a common friend of theirs with whom she had just broken up. He was a boyish looking guy with messed up hair, wearing a peacoat; thin and quiet until she asked about his apartment. He suddenly got excited describing it for her. "You really have to see it! It has a half loft and little porch to walk out on in the morning during the summer. It's perfect for one person...or two."

She said she'd love to see it. She complained that her place was just a cellar apartment with small windows along the ground level. "Why don't I check out your place on the way home?" she asked. He could barely contain his excitement; trying to act cool. I had to smile, remembering that feeling. You know the one... I call it the "come alive" feeling--when love is brand new. I wrote a song about it, in which the last line says, "It's so deep in my heart. I'm in love with the start." 

To be young again; to have all those years back again; to know that the sun was going to rise and shine through the window across the pillow, turning my love's face golden while she slept... 

At first I was glad I'd had the chance to have once experienced such a moment as I believed this guy was about to have. But, as I stood up, unplugged the AC adapter, unzipped Saggy and slid the laptop in and zipped back up, then pulled the pack onto my back with all of its familiar weight...honestly? I wish I'd never loved someone so much. Unlike the saying we know so well, to lose the love I had, knowing it would never return, was a terrible fate. It was like being lost and walking along a road in the middle of nowhere while the rain comes down...forever...     

When I turned to go back to the sleep spot I noticed that "Eyewitness News 9" had their van parked across the street. Must've been a human interest story having to do with Valentine's Day...

It was getting very cold. I shivered a bit, which is unusual for me. I timed the walk back perfectly and was able to cross the road in the dark.

I could occasionally get online there at the sleep spot. So, I tried it and noticed a strong signal. So after the tent was up I sat and listened to streaming ambient space music while I processed some pictures...

I like this picture because of the strange reflection of my face in the screen of the laptop.

I couldn't type very easily, because I had to be lying down. It didn't take long before all the melancholy thoughts from that day had dissolved, or perhaps just been swept back under the psychic rug again. I lay back and just listened to the rolling wave forms of Steve Reich, until I slipped into unconsciousness.