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Last day with Jen (synopsis to follow) 2002-09-11 - 1:11 a.m. 
Jen�s words passed over my head as I lay in bed. It was approaching nine o�clock this morning. I was delirious. Thinking was this rusted jumble of cogs and springs working more out of routine than anything motivated. She lay in the bed beside me, gorgeous, smiling at me and occasionally saying something. It was a hard morning for us both: she was going away to Michigan. My eyes kept falling shut in the car, hand and mouth gingerly wrapped around some sausage/egg sandwich in this brittle crusty bread. I was so exhausted that staying conscious was a strained, continuous mental exercise; so was eating that sandwich. The 101 freeway was moderately jammed, Gran occasionally making useless comments to fill the space and unwittingly grate my ears, every sound jarring me into some familiar world, setting me on edge. When I could muster the energy to move I looked back at her, she at me. We just smiled for a few brief seconds. I reached my left arm back, palm up and she held it, rubbing along the skin until my wrist couldn�t take it. One of my best friends was going away and I felt at peace, not flustered or in pain, just calm. Gran decided to rest herself in the car as I lugged Jen�s pregnant moose suitcase into the United terminal. We were so out of it we didn�t even notice that we were checking in at the ticketing counter. We then backed away near a corner of the terminal and looked at each other. I looked down at her, her up at me and we just smiled for a few brief seconds. I repeated a litany of kisses on her lips, her forehead, holding her close, savoring how well she complimented my space and tendency to forget obvious/important things. Our noses and foreheads met. The rest of the airport could have bit me on the ass and I�d have just smiled. We just held one another. She whispered again that she really didn�t want to go. I could only repeat them and kiss her. Eventually we finally said goodbye and turned to walk away. I looked back at her then. Jen moved with slow purpose, slightly rigid. I was surprised that she was going, then gone, as if she were still with me. Past my sleeping in the car and 4 hour nap back at home, I felt calm. As Gran drove my mom and I to a mexican place, my hand automatically moved beside me, laying palm down on the space where Jen usually placed her�s. The feeling of her being there faded from my mind, but stayed somehow, like a still pool, reflective and undisturbed. Right now I think I�m starting to re-adjust to her not being here, getting back to writing reviews, looking for jobs, just being at home. For her, life is incredibly busy, ridden with rehearsals, a job, driving and phoning just to hold on to some good friends in the physical life. She tells me it seems to become more complicated and busy as the weeks pass, the possibility of us speaking regularly growing dimmer. Months ago we investigated what the other was doing around certain areas, trying to see if we could somehow move and be closer to each other. That plan was unrealistic, perhaps as much as our being able to be together�but I�d like to think that someday realism would just shove it and we could be happy. I really don�t give a damn in hell about reviewing, job-hunting or anything practical at the moment. She helped me to stop worrying, to let go, relax and just accept shit as it came. We both just happened to one another without any real effort, almost seamless with all the amusing misplaced stiches and fragrant nuclear meltdowns along the way. At the least, she gives me hope for being who I am and that itself being a nice thing. I don�t know if our friendship will suffer or how things�ll change after this vacation, but I have faith it�ll eventually be ok for us both. I dearly miss her.
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