Morning T,

Honestly, I was dreading yesterday. I had one more morning, probably just an hour or so  worth of packing up my things at the house and moving them into my/our space in Nyack.  Sounds simple and given my smile above it might look like it was a blast but trust me, it wasn’t. and I  knew I couldn’t do it alone.

Tara gave me the whole day.  I arrived at her house at 9, we filled the car with an array of boxes and we were off. I drove into our empty driveway in auto pilot, unpacked the car and Tara watched me walk up the steps as I fumbled with to get the key into the lock. We entered together with the sun streaming. I took a deep breath of you/us and  I could still feel our life there as if I had never left, as if you hadn’t left.  But the house knew better.

Just ask Tara, who watched me take one step forward and then hesitate lingering over something that trigged a tear. For the next few hours, Tara kept me moving from room to room, packing, dumping, making progress. Finally 4 boxes filled the back seat of the car, an empty suitcase was returned to the trunk once again and we were back on the road headed to my Nyack.

Yes, I dumped more than I took with me and yes, that was your influence.

Finally,  I shut the door, froze a moment and got back into my car to return to Nyack.  I knew that wasn’t my final goodbye, but now officially,  I am  firmly grounded in my/our  home over the Hudson.  Without you, I can’t live the gypsy life anymore.

Back home, I took Tara  on a  quick tour of my place now that she could merge the virtual images I’ve shared on my blog and Facebook with the actual space and she loved it. We created a great space together, Tuv R.

We both knew I knew I had to keep moving and I was thrilled that Tara was willing to  excited to see 45 Hours at the Burns and I could see it again to fill in the gaps I missed from my cat naps that continue to plague me.  We parked the car, bought the tickets and walked comfortably across the street to the mediocre diner for essential fuel.  Feels familiar, right?

We saw it in a very small theater, so intimate that it felt like we were invited VIP viewers and bravo! I didn’t miss a frame and wow, did we love it.  Tara and I couldn’t stop talking about it from the moment we walked out into the fresh air of Plesantville, as we strolled around Nyack, as Tara got lost in Pickwick bookstore, when we stopped for a glass of prosecco, even when we met Scott for dinner at our local Thai restaurant. I couldn’t stop humming the Platters, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”, the tune that plays in critical moments in the movie and offers a key to the movie’s intention.

I am sure that the four of us would have had a great conversation digesting this film.

Damn, I miss you, my partner.

I miss being your partner.

Bonnie S.