on the way home

I wrote this at the airport yesterday and forgot to post it...

Here we sit, waiting on our flight back to Denver. This time, no high-fiving drunk girl to entertain us. Too bad. As ever, I am looking forward to getting back to the dogs. It’s silly how much I miss those little guys. I may have a massage appointment tonight, which is going to be much, much needed after spending so much money (on food alone—the food was excellent!). I also started my Christmas shopping while in Seattle, which is going to be much more frugal this year.

The trip was great. Very pretty, fairly relaxing. The food was wonderful, the shopping fun, the scenery breathtaking, Pike’ Market flawless.

I am sure that I expected too much. Both from the trip and maybe from myself. I expected too much and didn’t expect enough. I guess I should have. I hadn’t been on a trip without Chad in years. Part of the reason I was so excited to get away was to get away from him. To get away from every place I turn in Denver being some form or reminder of him. Seattle was perfect, he’s never been here, and we’d never been here together, obviously.

So, it truly took me by surprise how I dreamed of him two out of the three nights. Even on the plane on the way out here. He was everywhere. Which is so stupid. I didn’t want him to be, at one point I intentionally focused on everything but. It’s one thing to live in the home you shared, in the city you shared, in the life you shared and not be able to shake his hold on you. It’s another when you are somewhere where it should be easy if non-existent. It makes me feel rather weak and pathetic, and as always leaves me wondering why I wasn’t good enough or worth staying for and how desperate he really was to get away from me.