Homeward Bound

G left with my stuff this evening.

It was an odd feeling to watch him pull away, all my stuff in the bed of the truck or the small Uhaul trailer behind. Part of me wished the stuff was just gone, that I was unburdened from it all, that I could just pick up and go, let the wind push me which way it might.

But then I realized that much as I don’t care about the stuff and whether I ever see any of it again, I want to see the man driving the truck away again. Again and again.

So, west I’ll go, to G.

G left earlier than he normally would on a Sunday, both of us knowing it was the last weekend that one of us would leave, and that I’ll be home to stay on Thursday of this week. Those are the words I used, “I’ll be home on Thursday.” He didn’t skip a beat in replying, “I’ll see you at home on Thursday, then.”

That’s a big word: home. He knew what I was saying when I used it, and he knew what he was saying when he replied with it.

I spoke with J on the phone earlier this evening. She’s still in limbo in Ohio with the family farm up for sale, not knowing if it will sell or if it won’t, if she’ll come back for her teaching job or won’t. The not knowing is hard on her. I can understand.

That’s where I’ve been for a long while, too. When S said he was selling the house now instead of in two more years like the original agreement, or even next year like the revised agreement from this March, it killed me to not know what I was doing, and where I’d do it from.

G immediately offered his home, but I couldn’t just agree to that. We’d been boyfriend and girlfriend for only three months, even if we’d known each other a year and a half. To me, that felt powerless, it felt like running to a man to ‘save me’ and I couldn’t work with that idea. I had to find a way to take care of myself without relying on him.

So I said no, and explained my reasons. G accepted them, and let it go. As I continued to stress over how and where I’d live, I found myself repeatedly coming back to why I couldn’t live with him. I looked into my other options, found some, and chose to go with those, even though they weren’t a great choice for me, the cats, or for the others I’d be staying with. But it would have worked, and still will, if I need it to. They’re family: If I need them, they’ll be there for me.

But if I was going to rely on them, why wouldn’t I rely on G? Wasn’t he also a friend, also family?

And then there was that conversation with G, in which he asked “You have choices, and you’re choosing one which will be harder on you, but you’re sure it’s NOT a commitment issue?” As G expected, I couldn’t answer that. I had to reconsider what I was doing and why, and the only reason I could come up with to not live with him, was fear. And as A pointed out, I wouldn’t want to be making my choices from there.

There are still so many questions for me in this move, so much to live my way into the answers on, but where to be in the here and now, where to call home, I finally have figure out. And I’m grateful. Not just for a place to call home, but for the reason I would call it home: G.

I couldn’t walk away from him. Even if he didn’t have all my stuff.