The Dressing Room

I was thinking this morning about trying on relationships, as one tries on a new dress or, worse yet, a bathing suit.

I went to Camp-Professor-in-the-Foothills again on Sunday. With my travel to D.C. and his travel back to Fargo for his 50th high school reunion, we hadn't seen each other in ten days. It was wonderful to see him face-to-face again, after many e-mails, text messages and phone calls each day. It was great to feel his arms wrapped around me in one of those hugs he gives so well.

I had stopped at AJ's and picked up lunch - berries, lettuce, curried chicken salad, multigrain bread. As soon as I was somewhat sated with hugs, I set out in his kitchen to assemble lunch. Even though this was only my second time in his kitchen, it felt very natural to just whip around and grab a knife or spoon, or to ask, "where are the plates?"

Then we sat on the floor at the coffee table in the living room and ate our lunch, telling travel stories and listening to jazz off his iPod. Before we knew it, three hours had passed and it was time to leave for the movie theatre.

(This is a favorite summer afternoon pastime in Tucson — using someone else's air conditioning for a spell.)

We went to see La Vie en Rose, the story of the life of Edith Piaf. It was a fascinating but very sad story, and fostered lots of conversation on the drive back up to the foothills.

Then we had more salad and berries for supper, which we ate sitting on the back deck, listening to the wildlife and watching the Catalinas sink into blackness.

When I spend six or eight or twelve hours like that with him, I feel like I've been given an incredible gift of peace and comfort. And I want more.

I do hope I'm given the opportunity to try on a companionship with him again in the near future.