tim’s thought property

What could I possibly contribute to the literary world that has not already been said? Do I have in me an original thought that has not passed through the mind of someone before me? A thousand poets have taken the words from my hands before I have ever been given the chance to hold them. A thousand musicians have put their emotions to music before I have ever been able to learn to do so. Each time I think that I have been given some kind of isolated experience, I realize that many people can relate to me an uncannily similar tale, a remarkable relation that I can understand. Yet, in my quiet impudence, I insist that “No, what I feel right now has never been felt before.”

In a return to the airport, I began to feel that my time allotted was all to short, in the end. As it always seems to go, looking back on something that was so enjoyable, it all melts itself into one small moment, not unlike a candle, before it seems to vanish. Einstein said something very profound on this topic:
“If you put your hand on a hot stove-top for a minute, it feels like an hour. If you sit next to a pretty girl for an hour, it feels like a minute. That’s relativity.”
The Airport reminded me of all of this. It always seems so two-sided, the Airport.

In all the time that was leading up to this inevitability, she and I had seemed to keep our eyes dry and our attitudes bright. Yet even as we drove up to her departure, I had to hide my tears by looking out the window. I had to keep composed, for what - I don’t know. I had to keep composed, or else I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but cry.
As we spent time in the Terminal as we awaited the boarding call, we found a photo booth in which to take some pictures. She wanted me to smile for them, and I can assure you I wasn’t in any mood to smile. Being forced to appear happy was perhaps the last line of defence before we were standing at the Departure Gate. That rotten feeling of separation was returning, along with that growing sadness of distance had returned. It was like I was dropping off one person, only to take home with me these two feelings, undesired, yet unable to be uninvited.

For the last time, I held her; the last time for a while. If I had my way, I would be holding on forever. Looking into her rich green eyes and seeing them gleam with the tears that were waiting to fall, I felt my own face begin to mirror her own. As her lip began to quiver, that was the end of me; I had to kiss her to stop myself from crying. I told her not to cry until she was boarded. I told myself not to cry until I got to the car.

Like a mantra I repeated it over and over. In my head I heard Bono telling me “I know it aches and your heart, it breaks. You can only take so much.” Each step away from her, was a step closer to the car. I wanted to get out of the Terminal so I could cry, but I wanted to stay as close as I could be to her. After fiddling with the keys, having them find the lock, I was finally able to get inside the car to let out what I had been suppressing all morning. I collapsed on the steering wheel in a mess of red eyes and warm tears. I was crying like a child, with his mouth open and horrible breaths coming in and out, as my lungs gasped for enough air. Air for what, more tears? It was a ten minute drive to church, a ten minute, tear-soaked ride. I got inside the building and made a bed of pillows in the youth room and had a fitful rest there. Sanctuary was never needed so badly.

In the next couple of days, I was left with this feeling of how to re-start a life away from her. For the first time, I understood what it was like to not have an appetite due to love. I had no desire to eat, and it was a bit of a chore for me to even pour a bowl of cereal. I was sullen, and downcast, yet at the same time, trying not to dwell on the circumstances. Each time I saw to people in love in film or on television, I would think of her and I. I would see anything that prodded my mind to think of her as a gateway to being with her again. It occurred to me that there is merit to this terrible feeling of melancholy. If we had not felt so strongly for one another, would we be feeling this pained at the separation that we are now living in, yet again?