Sunday, June 24, 2012


I spent a week at camp enjoying myself and having a ball. And you know what? There were boys there (duh). There were boys with beautiful voices and beautiful faces and fascinating personalities and to be honest, some of them sparked my interest. Some of them were interested in me, too. But I came back to the dorm every night and either called or waited for Daniel's call, and talked to him for over an hour, or for five minutes, however long we had. And then I would climb into the top bunk and stare at the dark of the ceiling, cramped into a ball under two blankets in the cold room, aching for his body heat and the sound of his heartbeat and steady breathing. His quietly voiced sigh, almost inaudible, of complete comfort and content, when we're together. He wasn't there, but he helped me to sleep each night.

The last night of camp, we talked on the phone. "It's official," he said. "I'm leaving June 26."

It was one of those moments where your heart doesn't necessarily sink, but kind of bobs in uncertainty, something like shock and/or disbelief turning the medium in which it floated to a semi-solid jello. My heart was sinking, but very, very slowly.

Waiting for the best part of your life to leave is, as I have found, much akin to waiting to die.

And thus, the day back from camp was potentially the worst day of my summer. I felt horrible all day, and it was awful. Simple.

It was only a few days from when he broke the news to when a new opportunity popped up. August 8. He would have another month and some to stay here, and have enough time before school starts at Utah State to prepare himself. If only I wanted him to stay?

Of course, what could I say to that? I melted; it took everything not to beg him. I can't ask him to stay. I could never ask him to stay. I told him, he knew how I felt. How I feel. What did he think?

And so, the deadline was magically extended to August 8. Far enough away to soften the sting.
Still, it feels like we're bucket-listing. It's bittersweet, and I can only imagine who will cry first those last days.

Probably him. He could be weeks gone before it all crashes down on me.

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