March 17, 2002
Come Monday

heard from fraser this morning - well my voicemail did. i am such a bitch about answering the phone, and i missed the call. just as i was taking the mooser out for a walk i heard the phone go off, and figured "bah, who could that be?" didn't think fras would be getting back to londo until way later and couldn't think of anyone else i cared to talk to, so just fucked off on my walk. felt a bit dismayed to come back in ten minutes to find the message there, with the line barely cold.

so he's been delayed in sao paulo, anyhow. not home tonight. i'm not even sure why, the connection was all broken. i think he said "broken communications tower" and "be home tomorrow". it's funny, he's been gone for three weeks and i've hardly noticed not talking to him. but now that i have been thinking i would talk to him tonight i'm quite sad that i won't. funny how that works, isn't it?

and sadder still. just looked at my mobile and fraser left a voice mail there, too. what's a mobile phone for if not to carry around when you are mobile?

(yankiwi readers more here)

what is the part of human nature that causes life to speed up during those periods of relative calm, when you could be - should be - soaking the joy from every second? it is only in the more desperate hours that time slows and you are suddenly, alarmingly aware of how exquisite, how beautiful each moment; you gulp painfully from a cup that is too soon snatched from your grip.

fraser and i have tried to live each of our days together more mindfully so that we don't experience that, so that the last moments at the airport aren't the forlorn 'airport scene' goodbye. i always want to know that, whatever happens, that will never be our last memory of one another. yet i always leave with a bit of a panicked feeling that there was something left undone - some day we spent watching t.v. we might have had an adventure, some time that i was asleep that we might have instead had an important conversation.

i always thought that by living apart we would prevent this very thing, that being apart would cause each day together to be unbearably precious. but really, it's just the same thing on a smaller scale. somehow we have gotten especially good at being apart. once we are together, it's as if we have always been. our hands fit together so comfortably. i can't tell if this should make me happy or sad.

posted by ash at March 17, 2002 01:34 PM
Comments
We are good at being apart sprat. It's to be expected. You are an individual. I am too. We work well separately. But I reckon we work pretty well as a pair too. Being around you still pleases me more than being in the presence of any other person. That's my measure. I want to be around you more - and I can say that about very few people. But because of immigration issues and our respective decisions about our futures, we've been faced with a choice. Either pine, lament, cry, stay home and sulk or live the moments between the together times and celebrate them. I think we both chose the latter. Having said that, I'm excited about the plan we spoke of. I'll trip around the US a bit, help you move, perhaps ride a cheap bus down to see JM and C, and have some adventures along the way. You can come along if you like. Otherwise I'll just have tales to tell when I get back. Perhaps we need to spend more time adventuring. I need to wake your carcass up earlier, and we need to break our love of television. I'm going to whisk you away for a few weekends camping once I get the chance. Then perhaps I'll dazzle you with my travel tales around a little fire, with Moose snuffling in the background. posted by: Fraser on March 18, 2002 06:33 AM
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