I fall asleep every Thursday and Saturday night with my head resting on the shoulder of my new lover. I still get goosebumps every time he touches the back of my neck or reaches for my hand. My body just responds to his presence. I don't know how long that particular phenomena will last, but I love it. Thanksgiving- for all my bloggy crabbiness- was great. Joel charmed my Nanny, remembered all the names of the sisterfriends (and most of their husbands) and insisted on driving in my hometown so he could learn his way around. His friends have folded me into their routines for things like hanging out and holiday gift-giving. We just... fit. All in all, Plan B is going swimmingly.
And yet, I'm writing a heartbreak entry for the first time in months, since Month 6 when I announced I was back in the saddle. One of the major hurdles of this heartbreak, for me anyway, was the sudden way things ended. Maybe it's the time of year, knowing that Stephen was thinking about breaking up with me around now. As the holiday decorations go up all around me, I catch myself walking the same streets thinking, "Was this when the ground started shifting? Were we at this ice rink when he started slipping away? Was it the fight we had the night I covered this annual holiday gala that made him stop loving me?"
The answer I came up with months ago was that it doesn't matter, because it's over. I'm a stronger person for it, in a healthier non-long distance relationship, and so is he.
There is one remaining hurdle in my heartbreak. There's a child turning five on the other side of the world today. I remember when his parents announced that the "goalie was out of the net," as it were, and we wished for him with all our hearts.