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May. 17th, 2004 03:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walbourn"so people make their summer plans
and I'm listening to them feel so forlorn
'cause I'm still living in the winter wind
to begin my spring I must first find a home
I see the nest people have made for themselves
my sore heart swells again
I'm sick for a place that no longer exists
where someone else dwells
I must move on
this drifting around is all very well but its starting to tell me
I must make something for myself
and when will my actions get in step with my desires
I worked so hard so I can leave and now I'm yearning for those home fires
I have these conflicting needs for freedom and for somewhere quiet
I guess I'm still adjusting to this post-nuptial life..."
-- Penelope Swales, Swallow
Over the weekend while![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jeliza and I were trying to figure out dinner options, Olive Garden was mentioned as a possibility. We didn't end up going, but today while I was trying to figure out what the heck I wanted for lunch, it was floating about in my head and that was the only thing that sounded interesting. Turns out there is one hidden in Kirkland, so I didn't have to drive down to Southcenter or over the bridges to Northgate, which are both pretty long drives from Sierra. Dining at the OG is rife with memories for me, little rituals from my life with appleang. There was a period of a few years there where we ate at an OG weekly or near weekly. Authentic it ain't, but its consistent and comforting in a way.
Dining alone is one of the harder skills to learn when you find yourself single after many years of a shared life. It is no longer a heartbreaking reminder of emptiness, but I do miss conversation and the shared moments. Thankfully my life in Seattle has friendships and people to share moments with, but it is still a long way from the close comfort and social web I had back in Austin.
Yet I have to remind myself in my reflection that that close comfort in Austin became overwhelmingly painful for many years. Its hard enough for me to let go of things to begin with; doing so while surrounded by the places, faces, and connections that brought constant reminders made it nearly impossible. I'm grateful for the hope (though short-lived) that Andrea brought to my life that gave me the impetus to up-root myself and get away from that sadness. I wish I had been able to move to Portland and that we had a better chance at making things work, but given her history I'm probably lucky I landed in Seattle instead leaving this city a clean, if isolating, slate.
My life today has friendships, activities that engage me, work that pays the bills, a comfortable apartment, and even the comforts of a lover at times. Still, it is a fractured and incomplete life compared to what I worked so hard for those years in Austin. I'm hopeful those fractures will heal in time and with further effort, but I still feel the loss. I don't dwell on it nearly as often as I once did, but its there occasionally dredged up in dreams or when sitting in a seemingly familiar place with only my own thoughts for company.
and I'm listening to them feel so forlorn
'cause I'm still living in the winter wind
to begin my spring I must first find a home
I see the nest people have made for themselves
my sore heart swells again
I'm sick for a place that no longer exists
where someone else dwells
I must move on
this drifting around is all very well but its starting to tell me
I must make something for myself
and when will my actions get in step with my desires
I worked so hard so I can leave and now I'm yearning for those home fires
I have these conflicting needs for freedom and for somewhere quiet
I guess I'm still adjusting to this post-nuptial life..."
-- Penelope Swales, Swallow
Over the weekend while
jeliza and I were trying to figure out dinner options, Olive Garden was mentioned as a possibility. We didn't end up going, but today while I was trying to figure out what the heck I wanted for lunch, it was floating about in my head and that was the only thing that sounded interesting. Turns out there is one hidden in Kirkland, so I didn't have to drive down to Southcenter or over the bridges to Northgate, which are both pretty long drives from Sierra. Dining at the OG is rife with memories for me, little rituals from my life with appleang. There was a period of a few years there where we ate at an OG weekly or near weekly. Authentic it ain't, but its consistent and comforting in a way.Dining alone is one of the harder skills to learn when you find yourself single after many years of a shared life. It is no longer a heartbreaking reminder of emptiness, but I do miss conversation and the shared moments. Thankfully my life in Seattle has friendships and people to share moments with, but it is still a long way from the close comfort and social web I had back in Austin.
Yet I have to remind myself in my reflection that that close comfort in Austin became overwhelmingly painful for many years. Its hard enough for me to let go of things to begin with; doing so while surrounded by the places, faces, and connections that brought constant reminders made it nearly impossible. I'm grateful for the hope (though short-lived) that Andrea brought to my life that gave me the impetus to up-root myself and get away from that sadness. I wish I had been able to move to Portland and that we had a better chance at making things work, but given her history I'm probably lucky I landed in Seattle instead leaving this city a clean, if isolating, slate.
My life today has friendships, activities that engage me, work that pays the bills, a comfortable apartment, and even the comforts of a lover at times. Still, it is a fractured and incomplete life compared to what I worked so hard for those years in Austin. I'm hopeful those fractures will heal in time and with further effort, but I still feel the loss. I don't dwell on it nearly as often as I once did, but its there occasionally dredged up in dreams or when sitting in a seemingly familiar place with only my own thoughts for company.
