I couldn’t even bring myself to lose myself in words, or to escape.

There I was with every fantastical trapping of ignorance laid in front of me, and all I could do was wonder in the wake of the thick turbulence, excitement and sadness and hope of the hours before. Where I could have been walking falling castles and pistols, and magic moved on, I laid staring at the wood grain. Awash.

Listening to the water hit the tiles across the hall. Hoping that once he was finished, he would sleep like an angel.

In the previous months I’d felt like I’d said little and lots; that vague estimation teetered towards nothing and everything by the end of August, and the paradox showed no sign of slowing as the summer burned away. Always very busy, blissfully doing nothing, and adoring being strung along by whim and fancy and ignoring the thought of any consequence for the lost time. He and I spent a mercifully great amount of time together, with me often quitting the intellectual vacuum footing the bill for the summer festivity to let the sun sink with him. We’d stay til one, and race to beat the clock and awake the next morning at six with the same sun we let go. I never got tired of any of it…and surprisingly enough, I never got tired of him. Noting how I usually am, this is a rather notable detail.

But now, in the last night I’ll have to look at him before he begins his “great 20-something adventure” and is quickly swallowed, I finally can say something. Somewhere between self-restraint and smudged mascara, the floodgates pried themselves open. Now I feel I cant escape into the fantasy; I have woken to the realisation that the vacation is over, and the real work begins.

In five and a half hours, I’ll wake up to trek the hours to transplant him. From then til next, comes the gruelling process of rejoining the race and opening up for sabotage again.

But while it sustained, this quietly tidal summer has been the greatest gift in years. I’m more than willing to expend some effort, and pull my weight after the undertow rested me so long.

I daresay I might even be ready.