Our trip is coming to an end. This cycle - going toward Natalie, allowing my life to collide with hers, to vine around each other, to whisper in her ear, to view the world through two sets of eyes, to feel Echo's hand on my leg as if this feathery weight were my own daughter's touch - only to spin away again is excruciating. Back to the car, back to Portland, back to the friends and lovers that I adore. But they are not my other.
Natalie and I have not lived in the same town as adults. It is a constant exercise in acceptance to be okay with this and to plan for our next reunion.
Christmas in Santa Cruz!