By darwin
Date: 2003 Jul 22
Comment on this Work
[[2003.07.22.10.06.16144]]

in the red room

So I'm taking a German class, and it's odd how things just like a German class, can stir up old memories. But they do. From my grandma who didn't speak English until she was school age, to my sitting next to her in the red room reading from books in German when I was around the same age.

Probably the last time I was close with my grandma, when I was young and impressionable easily molded. Now I'm the black sheep, and have run eschew from the rest of the family (of god). Oh well.

Then I think of the German guy I dated. He wasn't German, but he had lived in Germany for some time, teaching skiing to military brats. He also sailed, and when I met him, he was a chef at a resort up north in Door County. We spent a wild weekend together; our bodies knew a language our mouths didn't. It's amazing how sometimes, you can have this awesome physical chemistry with someone, but when it comes down to talking the mouth grows slack and tired.

I drove home then from our wild weekend, and my car broke down two hours from home, on the side of a freeway. Many a tear was shed that day.

So he comes to me now in memory, as does my grandma, when I say my words...
ich komme
du bist
gestatten sie
entschuldigen

Such words that people who have gone by in my life haunt me. It seems though that friends do not haunt me, as much as I am by past lovers. But then no matter how much I think of them, and what had passed, it brings me back to Brian. And I think of him, and now I can hear a song, and have a memory of him. I can see him lying in bed next to me, helping me practice German. Listening to me for hours, so I can get it right.
And no matter how strong the memories are of someone else, they aren' t Brian. They aren't this wonderful man, who accepts me for who I am. Who when my insomnia hits, he is there at 2 am to rub my back so I can relax and fall back to sleep. Who else would make my lunch everyday, and hug and kiss me the first moment he gets a chance to. This amazing man of mine, who I feel I don't often tell how amazing he is. Yet he is so constant in my thoughts...

So constant in everything I write. Sure we are individuals, but it's like part of his spirit resides in me, and I can't quite let it go without letting pieces of me go. Perhaps that is love, and partnership, the infinite thought that my body wouldn't exist if his didn't. He was tethered to me in thought, long before our physical presence was real....