Taking Flight

She pulls on her thickest socks, wiggling her toes, hanging over in a forward fold, nose to knees, letting out a long, low sigh. Mornings. She could fall back into bed right now and pretend this day isn't happening but then what? Where to then? Eventually the sun will come up and things will have to get done. A shower. Breakfast. Walk the dog, shovel the steps, do the laundry, return his messages that have been haunting her for the last three days. She has no idea what to say, how to tell him she is leaving. It's been an incredible time, more fulfilling, exhilarating and wholly encompassing than anything she could have possibly imagined and she's got to go. There is nothing left except the inevitable fall from grace so it's time to disengage and disappear. Part of her wants so badly to hop in the car, race over to his attic apartment with the fake panelled walls and red shag rug, propel herself into his arms, legs wrapped tightly around his hips and tackle him onto the bed. Get lost in each other for hours, days, 8 more months. She's avoiding the inevitable. Rip it off, tear the skin and flesh from the bone. Deal with the rawness of the pain and discomfort until cells regenerate and their wounds heal over. Over and over. A familiar cycle. She has her way and no one, no matter how incredible the connection may be, can alter her course. The alternative terrifies her. Too many variables and risks. The unknown. If she stays, lets herself go knee deep and be seen, be known, heart wide open, secrets and lies laid bare, he may leave and that will destroy her. She pulls the plug early, at the apex of it all. Leave with the goodness pouring out of them before complications take root and struggles ensue. They always do. The push pull. The I love you, I need you, you want me, you need me; I fear you, you hate me, I miss you, please stay with me. She thrives on joy, the excitement of discovery, when everything is fresh and new. Clean, untouched, not yet broken. Everything breaks down eventually. Unless you leave before it hits the ground. It's like tossing a child on a blanket- that moment of suspension, flying high above it all, complete freedom, wild with abandon. Life takes flight. She will leave him up in the air.