And yes, these posts were late because I was too busy hanging out with Patrick when he got back. Teehee.
He lay down beside me and woke me up. I had been dreaming of him coming in the gate to our yard. We spent the night frolicking with daisies, er – watching West Wing, TED talks and making ice cream.
So that was the week. How incredibly anti-climactic. I felt rather like I was in Love in the Time of Cholera (Gabriel Garcia Marquez), because the return of my lover was shockingly disappointing. Not that I am not glad to see him – I am I am I am! But I wasn’t anxious for it as much, and it felt odd to be sharing the house again after several days. I felt a bit disembodied. I felt as if I myself were disappointing to return to, in the humbleness of home. I felt energetic without knowing what to do, and sleepy at the same time.
I feel as though there should be something to mark that time has passed, and there is nothing. It is like he never left, and after literally having to tear myself away from him 7 days ago, I felt it should be not quite so flat. Hmm.
Oh yes, and Patrick laughed at me because he found the knife under my pillow while getting into bed. I’d forgotten it was there.