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"Just to warn you, I'm planning on getting drunk tonight. It will make it easier to say goodbye."
This didn't exactly prove true. A couple cocktails instead made me say "I love you" more often and with more fervor as I squeezed them goodbye two, three, four times. The night ended on the porch with a couple smokes, with only me, MFA-Husband and his real-life husband.
The party was a good transitioning moment. I'm starting to let go of this residency, have some closure, but I want to hold on to a bubble of it and take it back with me to Chicago. When I'm here I have such clear confidence and vision of writing, and I need to nurture and cultivate that even when I'm alone in the apartment two months from now.
The night before last I had dreams all night that involved hugging and cuddling -- a blend of Chicago and L.A. people. As if my Chicago family had come to L.A. to pick me up, so there were hugs of greetings mixed with hugs of goodbyes. Very sappy and gushy, I admit, and rather obvious in its meanings of emotional vulnerability. So yes, I'm anxious about going home and still 'being a writer' by myself which is harder after being surrounded and supported for over a week. But also I'm ready to go home, to be home, to make that integration.
This morning while sitting on the couch, I can look through the crack of the open door that leads to their bedroom and see their bodies shift under the covers as they move into each other and I'm ecstatic to return to my own bed, my own love, our own bodies.
This didn't exactly prove true. A couple cocktails instead made me say "I love you" more often and with more fervor as I squeezed them goodbye two, three, four times. The night ended on the porch with a couple smokes, with only me, MFA-Husband and his real-life husband.
The party was a good transitioning moment. I'm starting to let go of this residency, have some closure, but I want to hold on to a bubble of it and take it back with me to Chicago. When I'm here I have such clear confidence and vision of writing, and I need to nurture and cultivate that even when I'm alone in the apartment two months from now.
The night before last I had dreams all night that involved hugging and cuddling -- a blend of Chicago and L.A. people. As if my Chicago family had come to L.A. to pick me up, so there were hugs of greetings mixed with hugs of goodbyes. Very sappy and gushy, I admit, and rather obvious in its meanings of emotional vulnerability. So yes, I'm anxious about going home and still 'being a writer' by myself which is harder after being surrounded and supported for over a week. But also I'm ready to go home, to be home, to make that integration.
This morning while sitting on the couch, I can look through the crack of the open door that leads to their bedroom and see their bodies shift under the covers as they move into each other and I'm ecstatic to return to my own bed, my own love, our own bodies.
