Beltane Waning Planting Moon
When I punched Delta 2406 into Google, it delivered a website called Flight Status. On Flight Status I could watch the progress of Kate’s flight from San Francisco as she moved across Utah, Wyoming, South Dakota and into Minnesota. I looked over at the computer occasionally as I worked in Chapter 18 of Wheelock: passive voice and the ablative of agent. It seemed natural to me to go from ancient Rome to a computer tracing the flight path of a jet traveling 595 mph.
The term soulmate may not make sense to me metaphysically and I am an existentialist at heart–we die alone, we live alone–however I know my life is not complete without Kate. Over time and with much love our lives have intertwined, her presence, her physical presence is important to me and to my well-being.
I’m a little afraid to admit that, in part to myself. What if she dies? Well, she will. And so will I. Also, I don’t want to seem so needy that I require another person to complete myself. And I don’t. Yet Kate makes the house full. Talking and crying with her about Emma made the whole sad thing real and bearable.
Here is the paradox of love. To love we need to be vulnerable, to open ourselves and let another person assume a critical and necessary place in our life, yet life itself has an end. In this sense, I suppose, each love is a tragedy, that is, it has a literally fatal flaw.
She’s back and I’m glad.
