It's taken more than a year for me to be able to drive into my old neighborhood --
our old neighborhood (all three of us) -- without having it hurt.
This evening, running ahead of schedule to pick up Wolfling from her dad, I drove north to pick up a treat and was broadsided by memories:
- The diner where I had my first and last meal with
_storyteller_, and where Lohain and I had brunch before our wonderful day on the penninsula, and dozens of other meals with both of them
- The doughnut shop where "The Commodore" took his pirate captain lover for a snack during a particularly notable night of passion
- The hardware store where we bought chain
- The stretch of road I was driving along when Lohain said yes, he wanted to live with me, make a home with me, but he felt no urgency.
We have time, he said, his growly voice relaxed with peaceful happiness.
I don't drive through this neighborhood often enough to have become accustomed to being here without him -- without
them, dammit.
Being here plunges me right back into the pain.