Tag Archives: second time around

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… contact …

on Mar 3, 2015…. Carol writes back….
“hi there… 
You know, i am very happy that you decided to contact me, drunk
as a skunk or not, and for several reasons:
The possibility of being friends with someone you deeply cared about,
and still Do care about, lends such hope and depth to one’s existence. 
It provides for the healing of the wounded and regretful hearts
involved, as well as makes wonderful use of the tremendous
investment that was made during all those months and years.
I mean, if you were really so attracted to someone in the first place,
and put so much time and energy into the relationship,  isn’t it
logical to not throw the entire thing away?
I have stayed friends with a couple people with whom i was involved,
and it sort of makes sense… duh…. that you might have a few things
in common, and a few vantage points to share!  
So as far as I’m concerned, I’m ready to enjoy and share what we can. 
You write with such passion, such conviction, and you do indeed
have something to say.  I only wish, as I always have, that you would
someday allow me to edit, punctuate and space your thoughts.
If you want readers to share your thoughts, please don’t make them
work so hard… spacing and punctuation really helps phrase things
in more the same way that happens when you speak.
I understand your method… it just pours out…
and you Should write the way it works for you.  But afterwards,
they can be made more palatable to the masses!
I have no illusions… you cannot hurt me anymore.  I allowed myself
to be hurt, and after a good amount of time…
……………..much longer than You, I might add…
I was able to move on to the next phases in my life. 
I am over the past, and free of fantasy, longing, confusion and
attachment.
I loved you deeply and for a long time Alcir… and now I do still
love you, but from a very different place.  It’s actually a purer
flavor of love.  But it will always be there for you.
That’s the way I am… once I really Love someone, it never really
goes away.  If it does, then I know it wasn’t really love at all,
but a mixture of other feelings and emotions and needs. 
I have always enjoyed your mind… crazy and unique as it is,
you have most amazing thought processes, and your life
experiences are incredible…
You have great taste in film, something i have a passion for…
yes, i saw that film long time ago, (“All is Lost”), and thought of
You.  I also was grateful I was not on it with you!  haha!
Your sense of humor is one reason you have survived, and
maintained some sort of perspective in this insane world.
Your drive, your will to live, is admirable, and your joi de vivre is
one thing that drew me to you in the first place.
Also, you were awfully cute at 29….
So… feel free to write me.  We can even talk sometime on Skype…
i will need your Skype number in order to call you, and although
i do have a little credit for foreign calls… one of my best friends
is in the UK… i would prefer your calling me.
Oh ya !    … and you Still owe me for that Metal Detector that
I bought you years ago, on good faith!  What a Rat!
My Skype is ****************
Our timing will be strange… my Skype is only hearable when i am on the
computer, so maybe an email to warn me, so i can open my laptop…
BE Well…….. Stay safe………. and BE Happy!
………………Carol
                    ___________________

 

On Tue, Mar 3, 2015 at 9:26 PM, Carol wrote :

“What an extraordinary day…. Smiling now.”

____________________

…and on Mar 3, 2015,  Alcir returns :

“To You with all my…… you know !
Thanks for being so generous !”

____________________

 

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… the why of it …

So perhaps, dear readers, you might ask….
Why oh why has it taken you so long to write again?

Certainly there are more than one or two reasons,
but more specifically, the pause began when the
memories of Rio were too sad and painful to relive.
After that, I just let it all sit, processing on my own,
letting him go and allowing some of the positives to
resurface on their own.
I knew he had moved to Norway, barely a few months
after I had left Rio….married a native there  and gained
the privilege of living in a country he had idolized since
boyhood, with his readings of the classics, and adoration
of Thor Heyerdahl and his voyages.
Although in my heart I knew it had been too soon after
me, still part of me hoped he was happy, while
wickedly wishing reality would tear it down…
Yes …. sorry…..couldn’t help it.

I remember the last time we’d spoken, then it was only
the phone we had, and it was a couple months after I had
left in 2006.
“Come back”  he called.  “I have a captainship and will
be on 2 weeks, off 2 weeks.  I make good money now, and
we can live in that village by the beach we went to… we
can be happy…”
“No”  I answered.  “You’ll be gone for 2 weeks, and I
know no one.  Then you’ll be drunk for 2 weeks.  I just
can’t come back right now.  Maybe later…but not now”
He flashed red.
“Never mind.  I’ll find another woman.  I have money now,
that’s all I need.  Don’t Ever call me again….
You’ll be begging, like all the rest.”

“oh Alcir……. you don’t mean that,”  jumped from my mouth.
“Yes…. don’t ever call me again”… and he hung up.

I did call…. but only three times.  Each time he wouldn’t
answer, and I’m not sure, but I’m pretty certain that  I left
brief messages…
Like…….. hi…. will you call me please?

He never did, and I had to move on.  He is a very willful man.
He’s had to be.  Remember… he was a beaten and abused child
by both parents, because he was uncontrollable.
Brilliant, beautiful, and ADHD in days where ignorance ruled.
He was a constant embarrassment for them.  Ugly shit.

So … nine years pass, the emails come, we begin Skyping
and sharing like we never had before, and I realize that altho
he writes prolifically, his Countenance, his enthusiastic and
spirited Self on video is so much more compelling… I realize
that his thoughts, his ideas and perspectives would have more
impact in person.  So we begin recording our shares.
Yes, of course he knew, and knows.  And the idea of a new blog
with well edited takes appealed to his ego, and his visions.
He would Love to know he has somehow made an impact on
the world, and been heard for all his perspectives and wisdom.

All this was stopped for a time, because of a certain person
who had it in mind that it was inappropriate for the status of
this particular person, and a bombardment on his emails and
messages began in such earnest, the stress of it all (and having
to leave Norway in the winter storms… another story) put him
in the hospital on several occasions.
He asked that I temporarily put a hold on anything to do with
him on my blog for a time.  And I agreed, out of love for him.

The particular individual mentioned began hounding my
blogs, sometimes there were 50-75-100 hits from Norway.
Searching through ancient writings, this individual obsessed
over things written years ago, and began Writing me.
Obsenities, rantings, name calling… and I published them
briefly, so that I could respond in a firm and dignified manner.
“Get a LIFE” was basically my message.  And once again Alcir
was bombarded with phone calls and rantings….it was crazy.

So……… things have developed and he has now told me that
I may do as I wish, that he Wants the new blog with videos to
be a reality, and that he doesn’t believe in censorship.
NICE!  so there you have all the dirty details of the Whys….
and my Notes From The Love Wars continues!!
May Light and Truth abide.

p.s…See……  “it’s time” … a few postings back…

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… where he’s at …

Shortly after I wrote that letter … responding to his approaches…
he wrote me to further explain who and where he was now.
(March 3, 2015 … nearly 9 years after I’d left Brasil.)

“Carol

I did not aged gracefully or for that matter i do not feel that i
deserve to be alive; in especial due to have fulfilled all my dreams;
i do have my sailboat were i am living in and planning to cross the
Northwest passage this summer and become the first brasilian
to do so alone; i was supposed to be happy and distant of the reality
of the world that do crumbles and stagger towards another gigantic
conflict and i am in part responsible for it ; i should had to be more
competent and killed many more iraks in especial from the
intelligence branches that today are the islamic state or isis;

No i am not giving me too much credit, i recognize that actions of
the usa and all other governments involved in the middle east,
afghan and iraq wars since the investments to crush the Soviet
invasion in afghanistan and later after the victory stopped with the
infra-structure build up giving chance to the ignorance of the taliban
to appear and succeed all the way to the twin towers;
Also the corruption and intelligence abandonment of the iraq gave
rise to the excrement’s that we see today with the beheadings and
burning’ s alive;
I, different of those governments assume my responsibility in not
doing enough to stop the madness that did come; I have no post-
traumatic stress disorder ,what I do have is a coherent responsibility
and I do not deny it or try to hide it under the carpet;
I did not watch the movie in question because I was there and do
not need fiction and propaganda in order to know what happened
in combat situations, in especial in the very specific relation that
snipers have with the war scenario due to loneliness and a need
to make god like decisions.

I did look you up again because of my knowledge and regret of what
happened with us when you were in brasil; I do apologize sincerely
for my actions and short comings as a man and as a human being;
I hope that you be well in Point Arena (look in my g+ the video of my
B-Day and see Point Arena in there) and loneliness for me is the best
thing; better alone than in a lousy company) .
I did made my choices and to be alone at this point
is the cherry on the cake .

Again all my best !

Alcir ”  

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… it’s been a long time …

It’s been some time since I wrote about my guy friend, and
there are several reasons for this rather long gap…
When I last was recounting our time together, I had just
arrived in Rio for the second visit, to be a lengthy one, and
re-entry was becoming difficult for many reasons.
I stopped mid story, because frankly it was so completely
depressing me, and it was confusing, and draining,  to be
taken back to such an emotional six months stay.

rio at night with christ

Rio has such romance and magic, and particularly for me in
the last 28 years, because of a Brasilian I met waaaay back
in the Eighties…. ah yes, the party decade!
He was diving for Urchins, I was a local, a friend brought him
to dinner, and the rest just unfolded as it did.  Great chemistry,
great romance, excitement, charm and mystery.
Then he vanished, as he used to love to do, and then two years
later, called me from Rio, to tell me that he loved me.
Then more years…. and then finding eachother on the internet,
making plans to meet, a month long visit, crazy mad love,
plans to return….. a painful year, at least for me…. and then
at last an extended stay.  We planned to marry… or at least
be together in a new way.

So there we are… we have some context as to the ‘picking up
where we left off’ part.  But see, there’s a catch… during this
interum, while I put away the turmoil, the ugliness, the long
and terrible confusions of to stay or not to stay…. and trying
hard to figure out this very convoluted man…. a completely
unforseen thing happened.
He emailed me…………..
Yes……. out of the Blue….. and here he is, briefly touching
in, with deep and sincere apologies, and wishes to perhaps
be able to converse.  I soon agreed, and we began what is still
going on today… long and heartfelt conversations via SKYPE,
with the most delightful videos, the most touching shares.
And that was Nine months ago…. hmmm?  rebirth?
He is living on his boat in Norway, soon to throw himself to
the wind, literally and as he is fond of doing.  And so there’s
more stories to tell, videos to enjoy, and a new blog site
in the future.

The true miracle of all of this is…. we have become real friends.
When you are ‘in love’ with someone, you know it will change
and turn into something else…. but to move from all of that
to Being Friends, and sharing things that really mean something…
Well, that my friends is an impossible Wish Granted.

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… what is love?…

Ah the eternal question… n’est pas?

What is it that turns stable and sane people, who are
quite able to function and breeze over most of the big
bumps in life…
…into creatures who suddenly find themselves on a
rollercoaster of internal chemicals, unable to
think of much else, and behave like mindless
blubbering idiots?

“Love…an intense feeling of deep affection, a deep romantic
or sexual attachment to someone;
fondness, darling, passion,
to fancy, be fond of, or adore.”

Well!  that certainly covers a bit of territory.
Me thinks we need about 18 words for love, like the
Eskimo/Inuit with their many words for Snow…
(although Google tells me this is another myth, and that
the European Sami People are the ones with all the words)

No wonder we’re confused. Let’s try going deeper…

“1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as
for a parent, child, or friend.”

or how bout…

“1. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude
toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition
of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.
2. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person
with whom one is disposed to make a pair; the emotion
of sex and romance.
3. a. Sexual passion.
b. Sexual intercourse.
c. A love affair.”

And it goes on…and on…My Favorite is ….
“a Zero score in tennis.”
OK… now I’m even more confused.
Biologically, they say it’s all about Chemistry.
There are wonderful substances that release when we
‘fall in love’, and these create such pleasure in our brain
centers, it becomes a high very much like cocaine,
and apparently, just as addictive.
But that still doesn’t answer the Why of it…
Why do we ‘fall in love’ with only certain someones…?

For me, I know that I was programmed for it….let’s call it
Romantic Love.
I’m an American, and between the old fairy tales, Disney,
and Hollywood… well, there ya go.

I was also somewhat sheltered, raised on myths, prone to
fantasy, and innocent in the most wholesome way.
I have grown wise to the world, but I am still a fool
when it comes to Love.

But I Do know the difference between “Being in Love”, which
is the Romantic equivalent of idiotic infatuation, and Real Love.
And I don’t think Anyone outgrows the ability to fall in love,
at least for a little while.
Out of mind would be the appropriate phrase.

But as time passes, if you have some genuine aspects there
that hold your interest and continue the attachments, you begin
to have Real Love, which is this deep and abiding feeling of tender
appreciation and attachment,  plus an admiration for parts of
a person, even though you are well aware of their
shortcomings and rotten parts.

This is very different from the first, and much more satisfying.
It is at this phase that you might actually find someone
you can stay with.

Well…?  don’t you honestly in your heart of hearts finally
somewhere believe there is a Someone for you, a someone
that was predestined to find you, or you them,
…someone who will be the mirror to your disposition and the
puzzle piece you’ve been waiting for…
…the perfect fit sexually, of course…..as well as
Someone who will appreciate the little parts of you that
others might find strange and irritating…
…and it really helps if that someone also Real Loves You…

Oh, the Right one will not only Get it, they will Enjoy it…
Relish it, Savor those eccentric, delightful parts of you, that
you Know are wonderful and shareable… and just a little weird.

Come on … admit it.  Even the cynics, the disheartened,
the broken hearted, and the most world weary amongst us…

I am willing to bet that down in the heart of your beaten up little
heart, is that soft little core, that childishly, purely as a child,
sweetly as butterflies, believes there will be someone who will
Understand who we Really are, while also turning us on….

….to the point of mind bending ecstatic transformational
blending of two souls into one magnificent pulsating
glowing being….whilst allowing us to leave our bodies and
become one with the Universe…
…oh wait…am I aiming too high?

Come on…. it’s there, you know it…
otherwise, why would we keep on trying to find it?

I wonder, as I look clearly at it now, if I was up to the task.
I chose not only a Brazilian man, but also a genius…
a Revolutionary, free thinking, well educated wild man,
…who read all the classics while still a child, and dreamed
of being one of those heroes who changed the world.
A man who saw very early that Most of the present world
is basically bullshit, and way off course.
Someone who didn’t fit in, and never wanted to.
And someone who was punished
from day one for being who he was.

And with a primal spirit that chose a physique so enriched and
so blessed, as to be called Special….in the nicest way….

So able and blessed, that he believed on the one hand that
he was able to do Anything, while on the other hand having
been told he was bad, so bad he was not even worth a mother’s love.
Confused, torn, convoluted, lonely, cynical, and hopeful…
…and a complete Romantic.

Do I like challenges….ya think?

So what’s my deal?  And what have I learned from all of this,
this story that is still and yet half-told…?

One…. Sometimes Love is not enough.
Two…. we know not what the goal or outcome is, or might be.
Three… let go and let…(insert the name of whomever you choose
as your source of wisdom, life and trust.)
Oh, and don’t forget
Four…. shit happens, the Universe decides, and shit happens.
Stuff floats into life…and we call it, even if we deny it.

That, and making Art of Life… is my project, my path, and
my choice… deal with it, process it, and enrich Life itself.

And make your wishes known to the Universe, visualize what
you’d like, and then…..choose what comes…

 

 

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… the journal continues …

It seemed a continual pendulum swing, from highs to lows,
from close to push away, from together to alone, and
obviously that was what it was.
Why the mystery?  Onion layers…

Two people, old enough to know too much, to think they’ve
seen it all and enough more to sink a goat, now thinking
they can each transform themselves into the Fool stepping
into the Abyss, as he called it.  And why not?
What more was there to do, but complete the circle,
and begin again.

But new borns cry a lot.  They throw tantrems, they are
afraid.  Nothing makes any sense, and they want to be held
and rocked.
They want soothing songs and nonsense stories
to swim them into themselves, where being is
a Dolphin dance of knowing without words.

The Issues…….and the Methods…
She thought deeply on this one, because just now it seemed
like the “fight” wasn’t about the issues at all.  It was about
the style used to prove a point, about winning, about being right.
At least to her it was, and that was all she knew, of course,
like all of of, each of us.

Consider the life of the man.  Beaten as a young child by
both parents, isolating himself for protection, proving
himself again and again, yet the only answer he ever
got was from himself, like when the father threw him
into the ocean to teach him to swim.  Sinking to the bottom
revealed his abilities to hold his breath, and the complete
and utter joy he felt when he realized he was at last safe
and in his element.  Alone now seemed a strength.

And War.  Always at war with all  of it, but when the real
thing came with the Legion, he saw a path to rightousness,
recognition, and power.  He could be a true Hero.
He hadn’t figured on what it would do to his heart.

So fucking alone.. he was completely alone, wrought with
past cobwebs, ropes, the scars from war…the hardest fucking
plastic known to man wrapped around his heart.

Old ways are not set in concrete, but they Are set in neurons,
pathways, grooves so deep, so repetitiously run.
And new tracks can be near impossible to dig out.

 

________________________________

 

_______________________________-

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… reflections on a week …

Journal musings…. January  2006 in Rio

“You have to really Want this, for this to work,”  he says,
and the words echo through the convolutions of brain cells,
concentric circles from a center…. created by a leaden heart.

It felt so heavy.  All of it.  Sad….. Dark.

Confusion had set in, and too much thinking could be dangerous.
Yet to not-think was unthinkable…. Hmmmm.

She’d been given the front veranda upon which to sit, to get
away from him, from the constant TV, and his moods.
….which actually was quite remarkable, amazing really,
and she could view the wandering streets and flashing
cloud storms and island comings amidst the constant breezes
with a sort of detachment that she needed… desperately.

“This is My House”, he would announce to no one in particular,
at no particularly special moment…except
to her I guess, and the dog, and his Mother upstairs,
and to himself most of all.

His stubborn willfulness had served him well at one time,
most of his life more likely.  But now it felt like stacks of
concrete pillows, between the two bodies lying side by side.

Was she to be like the desolate dog, if you could call him a dog,
that was allotted two small spaces within which to eat, do his
duties, be quiet and cower.

He addressed him as “Get the Fuck….” as the poor wretch
jumped up, desperate for a touch, for tenderness… and the
man would cringe, because he hated the dog.
It was the most disturbing thing she’d witnessed so far, the
distain he held for this shit eating dog who had so thoroughly
disappointed him and his visions of what a dog should be.

Maybe the dog was just trying to clean up his jail cell,
she thought, maybe he’s really trying to be a good dog…

Was she to be the “other twin”, protruding from his ribs, ever
connected, never her own, never as large or as individuated?
“Be by my side” now had it’s double meaning.

Did he even begin to know how to let anyone in, even one
he claimed to love?  Was he even in control of the little door
that swung open and closed, daily…
There’s the light, and wait…. oh, and now it’s gone…

Did the most courageous man she’d ever known cower
at the possibility of real love?
For this was love becoming real, going far beyond the
fantasy he loved so well and could keep in control.
Beyond the heroes in books he’d emulated, the ones
who would run off to fight another dragon.

No pretense holding distance… This was so real it was
palpable, in the air and sifting like dust to the surfaces
of everything he touched in this cell he shared with her.

“I’m going over the Abyss”, he had sighed one morning,
a couple of days ago.
……………..”and do you know Why?”

She looked long and hard at his face, now miserable
with confusion, yet here he was, the little door opening
just a bit once again …

She motioned to herself…. and slowly he nodded,
…. sadly, tenuously, as though for that moment he had
risen out of his automatic self and was viewing it all
with clarity and a mildly puzzled perspective.

“What do I do?” …..

After a moment, her own answer came, as it always had,
since more years than she cared to remember.

“Jump and Trust…. that’s all you can do…….

“OK….”, he nodded, and it was done.

 

____________________

Aside by

It’s now Thursday, five days into my visit to Rio, to Alcir,
and we’re home, and he’s drinking.  I have never known
anyone who can drink like he can, and yes I know it’s a
bad sign, and yes I know Brasilians drink more beer than
any other country, and yes in that tropical heat, that half
frozen freezer stored refreshment cannot be beat, but…

This man has such high tolerance to everything, since
maybe birth, and so it’s a gift and a curse.  I have seen
him put away liter after liter, go to the store, buy eight
more, I drink one, he drinks the rest, and while he’s out
he’s done shots of Scotch at the local garage bar.

Yes, along those winding urban streets there are countless
bars in garages, little gatherings of men sitting on cheap
plastic chairs, smoking and bullshitting.  It’s a part of
Brasilian culture, the men just go out at night and drink.

So Thursday he drinks, we cuddle, he asks me not to
let him go, and then sneaks out when I fall asleep.
Friday there’s the usual hangovers, denials, and Mr
Bad Mood.  Sullen isolated shit head.
We go grocery shopping at the giant Mercado that we
usually walk to, sometimes holding hands, but this day
he drives us, because his elderly Aunt Maria needs to
go too.  He goes to a chair at one of the little mall stops,
and Maria and I go in with our separate carts and get
what we need.  She is not a happy person in general,
but when neither speaks the other’s language, it’s pretty
lonely.  She cooks, and I can’t even ask her about
ingredients or where something is.  And he’s back in the
mall drinking beer, and beginning to refer to
us as “you people”.    This does not bode well.

I’d so looked forward to getting out and shopping for
things, finding new fruits and vegetables, people watching,
and now he’s just mean and doesn’t want to be there.

When I’m in line, which is always endless… I mean, take
a book or some playing cards when you shop here…
he comes by long enough to load the cart up with beer,
and a big Scotch.  Oh, and I’m buying.
Of course I’m buying… I’m a rich American and I’ve
intruded upon his space, and I will pay.

Maria and I are now pretty much the same, in his eyes.
Irritating women who want something from him.
Never fall in love with a man who hates his Mother.

 

_____________________________________

… not even a week ….

by

Back but Not …

This blog started as a running commentary on Dating sites.
Then it went in a direction that was not planned, yet one
that was in the card catalogue…
You know… that thing that you know some day you will write about………Someday.

And then that Someday became a train that I hitched a ride on
for quite a while….

Time was,  it was Time to get off that train… for a while at least.

Perspective.   That is what matters in life.  And perspective
depends on your locale, no matter the Bardot, the Time Zone,
the Chakrah….

So here I am, listening to Brasilian Jazz for the first time
in a long time…
I have avoided it… I did not want to go back to it….
go Back to it, to the emotions that the music lead me to. 
For many years, I used Brasilian music of all sorts to
take me back to that magical place that I had attained with
this person who had come into my life. 
And now, for years, I have pushed all of it away….

It’s called Survival.  It’s called Healing…
It’s also called something … oh,
and Right Now as I write, Jobim has come on Pandora, the
station that will be my slave and play whatever mode I choose…
And like I said, I am allowing Brasil to re-enter my reality,
because… although it represents Him… it also represents
the culture that I fell in love with many years ago, and
opened such beauty and rhythms and sweet language sounds to me.

Please…. I am a girl from the sixties, and I loved those days
when Samba entered our culture, and became a part of Movies that
are Dated by the Samba notes that are played as Party background.
I mean, check out Peter Sellers, and an early film… “The Party”…
which, if you haven’t Seen it… oh you Must!
It’s one of his Best, and Samba and those times just envelope
the film. It was a heady, sweet and naïve time, before Reality
struck. I am so glad I got to be there… But…
I am a girl of the times, and all those notes, those feels
go straight to my soul and to my Netherparts as well…

So now Jobim … and his brilliance, his iconic purity…
reminds me that Brasil is more… so much More than Alcir and
all he happened to bring to me….. I fell in Love with Brasil,
and was lucky, privileged enough to really get a taste of a
culture that mesmerized me for so, so long.

So I guess I am saying a few things… I still love Brasil. 
I am still in love with the Music that falling in love with a
Brasilian took me to…. and now I seek to, on one note,
Separate one from the other, and on another level, Allow me
to feel some positivity towards finishing my story about
my love affair with Brasil, and with this crazy Brasilian
who really in all honesty, fucked me over big time…
whilst bringing what I wanted, which was a true real visceral
experience of uniting with this culture.

And yes, still, I feel there are things that need to be
confronted, completed, shared, and yes, even enjoyed,
before this tale is over.

OH… and ps… I am now Listening to DEAD MAN WALKING
soundtrack, and yes, You Alcir know what that means…

 

————————————————————–

by

…babe…

It’s March 9th…2005

We’re at the aeroporto… we cling to eachother like frightened
children…. or frightened old people…..
we’re too quiet to be children…

I can only hold onto him, hold his hands, touch his borders,
until the very last minute, knowing full well that time just keeps
moving on, and soon all this will be gone…the now of now
will soon be the now of the future, evaporated
but for foggy memories.

He sits beside me, and we are quiet together, our last moments
before the long distance once again pulls us to someplace else.
I lay my head against his maleness, holding to his arm,
head on his shoulder, my hands absorbing all I can of him.
He feels solid, grounded, calm, sad and resolved.
He says nothing… there is nothing to say.

I cannot hold the tears that fall down my face, and onto our
mutual hands…… and he looks long at me…

“Oh…I think thees separation ees going to be harder on
you than me…..”
He trails off …… I hold tight.

He takes my journal, borrows my pen, and writes
one last message to take home …

I remember turning to him for one last look, after I walked away,
before I moved into customs, and readied myself for the long trip home…

I may not see his face again for a long time… and for all that life offers..
….and for the way he is… it could be never.

The old panic buttons send their blaring sirens off into my nervous
system, for the so-many-times he’d left before, all of it coming up
like a slide show carousel on the dark wall of my brainscape.

I remember boarding the plane, and asking the assistant to please
bring me some kleenex…
“I am leaving my fiancee,” I tell her…” and I know I’m going to cry…”

And I did.  I cried as the wheels left the runway, as the plane banked
for the last time over that city, over that bay, and away from that
magical place…my magical place…..until I could no longer see
that city, that bay, that coastline, or Brasil at all.

And then I wiped my eyes, sat up a bit, pulled out my book and
began the long journey home.