When you were mine
November 10, 2007 – 8:23 amFlying into Oakland last month, I spotted the windmills out East, past the hills, past the car dealerships, leading to Stockton and out to the vineyards. Before you know it, you’re past the Bay area and your headed to the mountains, headed to Twain Harte, headed to my old home.
It’s strange to think of that as home now, to know that you were what I was thought of my rock, my comfort; looking back now, I know you were far less than that. But this isn’t about that.
Seeing those windmills made me sad. Not because I’m no longer with you, but because it reminded me of the life I used to have. The life where we would drive past these towers in the Blazer, listening to the hum of the engine, because we couldn’t ever agree on music. The life where we lived in a cute A-frame and worked at the coffee shop and would drive there late at night in the snow to raid the muffins. They reminded me of the year I lived an hour away and drove the 24 to the 13 to the 580 till it merged with the 880 and then I was on 92 and the San Mateo Bridge before coming to you. They reminded me of the happiness that I wanted to feel with you, dreamt to feel someday. That one morning you would wake up and see me as I deserved to be seen. That day never came.
Which is why flying in that day, and seeing those windmills only made me sad. You can’t put your heart and soul and dreams and goals into something, watch it fail and not feel badly.
But know that even though you are no longer mine, the man who is, loves me and sees me the way I deserved.
I didn’t intend to think of you while I was there, but I don’t think I can ever fully separate the Bay Area and you. Its all to sewn together and I can’t rip it apart.
