It was a saturday morning like many others.
My childfree weekend had freed me up to attend a local peer rope workshop. One tie in particular has foxed me since I took up tying and there was to be a demo that I did not want to miss. It was to be shown last, and as I made myself and my bunny a cup of tea before it started I pulled out my phone. One new email:
I felt the colour drain from my cheeks, but as I waited for the tea to brew, reading and re-reading those 4 unassuming words, my messenger pinged. I had sent him a message shortly before my first big event 16 months ago, not long after he left, and now, when I am about to learn a tie that I am desperate to master, he replies!
…back in the UK this week…I owe you an intense scene…if you want one…
If I want one…Why wouldn’t I want one? Sir….my Sir…20 months have passed and you are still in my mind.
My brain running at a million miles per hour I finished making the drinks and took them back through. My bunny noticed something was up, offered me to sit the tie out once I had explained the situation. I didn’t want to though. Rope is a place where I go when the world seems too much. And that, right then, was definitely too much. I muddled through the rest of the workshop, and got to grips with the skill I wanted to learn, bursting into the fresh air after and replying as soon as I was safely back in my car…with an oddly short message. A brief exchange and we provisionally arrange to see each other the following friday, if he can make it, and he asks what I have been up to since he went away. I promise a full reply later, but have to continue with my day.
And so it continued through the week. I filled him in with a brief summary of the last 20 months of my life (It may have taken 2 hours to type) with a small selection of pictures. There were tasks; some I could choose for myself, some he requested, all pushing me forward as had always been the way, with him knowing what I find particularly challenging but never crossing the fixed limits. It is a long time since I have raised my eyes to the ceiling and, with a grin, wondered what on earth I am doing, but as ever with him I was doing it all because I wanted to. We discuss the potential for future tasks in his absence, with him working abroad for a couple of months and only back for short periods, and with limited access to email, he is unable to make promises to me. Somehow I don’t mind, just having him back in my life is exactly what I need. I hadn’t let myself think on how much I had missed him and our dynamic, but now I can see why no-one else has come close.
And then Friday arrived, along with confirmation that he would be free and in the area.
I arrived at the hotel, prepared and excited. I collected myself outside his door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. Reverie can play tricks on the mind, and I had almost hoped I would leave disappointed, say “thank you for the memories Sir, you have been wonderful but it’s time for me to move along.” But my memories were crystal clear, and our short time together was as satisfying as I those I had replayed over the interlude.
With the review sent the following day, another task followed, harder this time, always harder, and I completed it well…
Very well done N
And then he is gone again, as I knew he would be.
But unlike last time I have tasks, an ongoing connection with the man to whom I owe so much, and all I can offer in return is my submission.
This blog is my journey… how I came to this point and onwards, ever onwards.
Feelings that come back are feelings that never really went away was first published on A Leap of Faith