Harmonie du soir

I came home to the house from the dorm on a stormy, squalidly hot Wednesday, and it’s been hot, squalid and depressing since then. It rained last night, and we had to move some things away so that they wouldn’t get wet. The house is a mess–it’s been that way since the Saturday before last, and I have been aching to leave the place–the whole Valley–altogether. I have reached the point where now things are so stale there at the house that I no longer wish to be there. The garden is a mess; it’s not been watered since I got back from Lubbock, a whole year ago. And efforts to revitalize it have failed immensely.

Not all things are bad, though. I have been praying and hoping for a June trip to see Ryan, despite Mother’s intonations that I’m ‘bothering him’ and that ‘we don’t have the money’, even when we actually do. Truth be told I’m not sure if I’m going to begin with; Mom’s been making some moves toward buying a new chest of drawers. I hope they’re cheap. I have been saving up for this trip since January, when I gave Mom $200 to keep for the bus trip, which I surmise will now occur the first or second week of June. These days have been blissful for the both of us. Ryan and I are happy with the mess of our lives. Today is the one year anniversary that I returned as a failure to Harlingen, and I have been here in the hinterland of Texas since. I can’t complain because I honestly like being here with Mom, but I don’t want to live here anymore. I don’t want to be seperated from the most important man in my life right now. What’s more is that I don’t want to have to put the both of us through and endless series of trips to come and see one another, the agony of being apart from one another. This is what I envision for the both of us, God willing: a house among us, bills we pay, a big bed we sleep and make love in, dinners to cook, the sweet smell of laundry being done, and above all the warmth and dryness of the West Texas air in summer around us.

I swear, Ryan, on my life, on everything I love, which includes you: I will be with you again. We will never ever be apart.

I know understand what Grandpa and Grandma must have felt after World War II–the overwhelming need to construct a space unto themselves, where extraneous ideas and threatening people would be excluded. I want to get on my own two feet now–I recognize that I need to now.

It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to go back to the mid-Valley soon to see all of my college friends. I’ve been dying to talk to Mark forever. I called Javier earlier. He was at home (finally!) We talked for a little, and then I came here to the library to write this. I have taken care of some correspondence; I anticipate I will be here for some time.

I have a job in Nevada I’m looking at; although the woman in charge of the program hasn’t called me back in a while and now I’m beginning to get antsy. What’s more is that I feel an overwhelming need to move; to run away–I hope that I can get far to Nevada, start working and living on my own and pay off all of these bills. I just need to get out of here, and get closer to Ryan, and everything that waits for us there.

Needless to say, I am in a period of great spiritual stress and am relying on God’s help continously. Onto Him I place all my faith and trust; it is to him that I commend everything that I have worked for. Sometimes I don’t understand what’s going on with my life–or where I’m being taken. I now realize that I have to help myself get out of this rut, because it looks like no one else is going to help. How I’m going to do that, though, I’m not exactly sure of. All I know is that I’m determined to get out. I have to. I will not be a slave to that house anymore.