3 steps back.
That's what this weekend was. I'd been doing "okay", then Saturday I had a complete breakdown. We were sailing. And listening to Bob Seger. "Main Street" was playing. It hit me like a ton of bricks out of the clear blue sky.
It was like, all of a sudden, I realized he was gone. That I was never going to see him again. That I was never going to smell him again, other than the jacket that I took of his (but he had washed it recently. I wonder if he knew I was going to want it, and he didn't want it to "smell the smoke"). Or have him nuzzled up next to me in bed. Or kiss him, and have him kiss me more passionately than I have ever been kissed. Or go riding on the back roads in Oberlin sharing a six pack of Bud Light, even though he preferred Coors Light. Or feel the butterflies everytime I would pull into Oberlin, or when he would pull up outside my house.
I loved him so much. More than I ever thought possible. More than I think I will ever love anyone. We had been together about a month when my mother and I drove to Lake Charles, and I was taking her truck from there to Oberlin to stay with Nick. She asked me how things were going with us and I said, "Great. But how is it that being with someone can make me so happy, and being without that same person can make me so miserable?" I don't remember exactly what she told me, I just remember it was something I didn't want to hear and that it pissed me off. What I said held true for two and a half years. When we were together, we were happy. Genuinely happy. My mood would turn sour the closer we got to leaving one another. He would tilt my chin up with his finger, kiss me on the tip of my nose, and say everything would be okay, that we'd see each other again soon. I don't think there was a single time that I'd leave Oberlin, or that he would leave my place that I wouldn't cry. He hated seeing me cry. He would wipe away my tears and hold me tight, and sniff my hair to make me laugh. He always loved the way I smelled. I loved the way he smelled, too. Anytime I would sniff him he would get embarrassed and tell me to stop because he thought he smelled like smoke. He never did, though, which was strange because he smoked a lot. I'd give anything to smell him again.