Here I am in my office, enjoying my morning java and trying to corral my thoughts in to a cohesive, comprehensive post. It's been a whirlwind week with my travels, coming home, being severely missed by my younger son who won't let me out of his sight. My wife and other son also missed me, I'm sure, but they are in their own world and too busy with their problems to really share of themselves.
And though I enjoy it and welcome it (after all it's nice to be missed), my thoughts continuously go to her. It's interesting; it isn't quite as intense as it was a couple of months ago. I'm not sure I could take it if it was. It is now more of a memory, a nice memory, of a time to which I would like to return. Whenever I have a moment to myself; like when I am looking at my reflection in the bathroom, I smile to myself and think of my muse.
Sometimes I scare myself and wonder if it was just a nice dream. Whether I imagined it all. Of course, if I had imagined it I would have certainly given it a much happier ending. I constantly remember her looking at me at the airport and mouthing out the words "silly boy." That memory breaks my heart and will be with me always...
I am a silly boy and I made my choice. But I'm still not sure that I made the right one- and that kills me. How many people are given the chance to see what their life would have been like if they had taken the other path? What if Clarence had shown George Bailey what life would have been like if he didn't choose to stay in Bedford Falls and found out that he would have met a beautiful brunette during a build in Chicago and they traveled the world enjoying life and making love in Venice, Paris, Bombay and Sydney? That would have made for a very different story.
In a way I feel lucky to have had the opportunity to see what my other life would have been like. On the other hand, I think it's kind of cruel for the fates to hold my muse up in front of me and say, "here she is, the love of your life, everything you ever wanted. And the only thing you have to do is give up your children's happiness." What a choice, what a world.
It isn't that I'm not satisfied with my life. It's pretty decent as far as lives go. I have a wife who puts up with my crap and who is appreciative of me being there, children who still laugh at my jokes and with who I can share my knowledge, a scrappy little dog that seems to love me despite everything and a job that lets me do a lot of the things I like. I think that if I had not met my muse I may have been happy in my ignorance - and yet - I would have always wondered if there was more. I know that I've always had the potential for more.
Is it the sex? No, not really. Yes, my muse is an extremely sexual being, just like me, who likes to play and enjoy all the pleasures of the body. That's one thing that ties us together. But there was more over the past few months that we shared outside of sex or sexual conversations. There are so many topics which we discussed and never really fully covered. I want to finish our conversations on politics, religion, history, baseball. I want to hear more of her thoughts on current events, on music, on why John Mayer should be considered a musician (j/k). I want her to beat me at Scrabble, eventually. I want to play strip Monopoly with her...Ok, that's back to the sex part, but one can never really get away from it, right?
I love her body, her soul, her spirit, her energy and I really admire her ability to make the best of it as I've seen her do on Facebook these past few weeks.
Funny. I thought that putting these thoughts together would help me to feel better about my decision. It turns out that typing this is actually making me feel like crap. My heart is breaking all over again. I miss her...
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