I sit here at Newark Airport waiting for Mony to arrive home, yes home. Despite living 3000 miles apart this is her home as much as the one she is coming from and there in British Columbia is my home. There’s a song by Billy Joel, I believe it is called ‘You’re My Home’… basically the song is about how the woman he loves is is home, not an address, where ever he or she may be… her arms are always his home.
Anyway, as I sit here, more excited than a child on Christmas morning, I realize how sweet the taste of the air is, how sweet the anticipation of her arrival is… and how very sweet the feeling of happiness is; happiness was not something I concerned myself with at one time. I sit here and think about how she and I both broached ending this but holding on… one fighting the other to keep us together. I think about our fights and for a brief moment we lost ourselves to our self-centeredness ( briefly) and we came back. Those moments are bitter, sour… just plain old bad tasting… but I wouldn’t trade them because they are moments with her, and each time we fix a bad moment, swallow a hard pill, have to face harsh truths… each moment that tastes awful only proves to make all the other times that much sweeter.
Maybe we all need to look at bad moments like a 4 dollar buffet… the food tastes like shit, but the desert station is always good and after all the bitter flavours that ice cream tastes so much sweeter.
I look forward to her arrival home.
Thanks for reading.