08-01-03 - 5:22 p.m.
the 'boy is gone. he took what little he arrived with, leaving behind my gifts; the leaning tree coffee mug, the stuffed armadillo, his first and only pajamas, a copy of 'the gates of the alamo.' i am not surprised; he is following a well-worn pattern of protection; get close, push away and bail. but being the over-analytical gemini psycho that i am, i will torture myself into the next century to understand why. i will blame myself, my cat, my kid, my overwhelming collection of eiffel towers, my indifference to cooking, my affection for springsteen. he once told me; i am a fearless man, but you scare me. i realize now it wasn't me that scared him, but closeness, intimacy, maybe even the comfort of knowing one woman. in honor of the cowboy mystique, awed by it, i gave him space, and by god, he took it.
i am less hurt than disappointed; we were planning a future; a motel in missouri, tiny cabins on the banks of a lake where we'd work for ourselves and he could putter and fish. no cows, no horses, no 24 hour cell phone forever linked to the manager on duty. i am not sorry i allowed myself to plan and hope for this dream. i am sorry, however, that patrick's brief reappearance shook the very foundation it was built on. i'm sorry i lost my footing.