Pines for You

I haven't been online much lately. It's Andre's last week here, so he and I have been exploring Luxembourg and "spending time together" (nudge, nudge). He left today to go back to Canada via Paris and London.

This morning we woke up at 5:30, "spent some time together", and said goodbyes over coffee. I had to leave early to bring the car in to the detailer to get rid of traces of the you-know-what.

Tonight when I got home from work, the housekey was in the secret key spot. For a moment I couldn't locate it. For a moment, I believed he had changed his mind about leaving and that he was inside. Yet, all of the lights were off. I found the key. When I opened the door, of course, noone was home. Noone was playing guitar. Noone was making me field mushrooms on toast or waiting to talk to and play with me. My retro brown leather jacket that Andre has been wearing for 3 weeks was hanging off the back of an empty chair.

We took a walk last night on a castle grounds. The mist and twilight red sky imbued the setting with a dreamlike quality. With a sense of peace it occured to me that, as a final scene, one could do far worse. Yet, today in the bold light of day (or at least, the bold murk of a Belgian winter Monday) I admit that I believe he has made a mistake in leaving. And perhaps I've made one in letting him leave. Alas, the thing is done.

His presence though has been an unexected pleasure and I am going to miss him.

Oh, he left his mittens behind in the pocket of my leather jacket -- a fabulous parting gift at the end of a well-told story.