He was he realized after talking with her that he was a little sad, a bit disappointed that she wouldn't be coming his way- at least not in the time frame which he had expected. But could that actually be a good thing?
Did it actually give him more time to get everything together and more time to just know what he wanted before she did actually arrive. A year and a half sounds like a long time, but he'd already been waiting for six months and that time had passed rather quickly. He had in fact begun to worry a little that he might not be ready, that there were simply too many loose ends to pull together before she was in town. So this was really a reprieve. He had tried to tell himself that the night before as he lay tossing and turning, but it took hours until he finally fell into a state of relaxation and then eventually sleep. He mourned what he thought of as the loss of another woman he hadn't ever had to begin with. But by the next morning he was ready and able to write about it. But surprise, surprise the whole thing had prompted him to begin the day by writing to someone else. Writing to someone with whom undone business seemed even more pressing and immediately important. He imagined telling the one he had mourned the loss all about the others, but that hadn't yet happened. He had instead been going down a list of other women and writing to them. Some he ended up saving for later or only writing a brief now instead of an essay or even a poem, but he hadn't as yet written to her. Perhaps it was because he knew that she was still away, but maybe it was because he had already given her a considerable block of time the night before, and didn't know if she even want any further contact at this moment. Or maybe it was because he had said so very much to someone else- someone he hadn't thought he would write to for several more days.
He didn't know, but at least a part of him was glad about finally writing to this other woman. It was so long overdue. Not saying anything seemed like an cowardly omission. But he thought that once he shared that with her, he'd also share the information with the other two. He did love each of them, all in slightly different ways.It was almost a past, present and future set of circumstances, almost. Almost, but not quite.
It would have been more convenient if that had actually been the case, but it wasn't. I was the kind of thing which made him wish he could take the kayak out on the water and just float in the quiet beyond the surf line, so that he could think, but on that day and even into that evening there was no quiet or calm in his local waters. Still the urge continued to pull at him, to call him toward the water. He felt compelled to face his destiny regardless of the weather.
As he prepared to launch at dusk, one of the last of the life guards on duty did all he could to dissuade him, but no.
The sea was not to be denied.
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