I went on a Harley-Davidson bike trip with a few couples in Indonesia. It took me away from my normalities. Brought me back to life somehow. Made me learn once again to be thankful, to be patient, to be a little afraid and apprehensive, to be brave and let go, to trust your gut instinct and to trust your spouse.
Throughout the journey I felt vigorously happy. But somehow I was also going through this tunnel of the past where deceit, pain, having to be brave and realize that there was no one else to rely on except me of the what-ifs and what really didn’t happen and what really did happen when I wasn’t there; for some reason. The times when he was about to leave, when he left and what life did to him.
I fought hard within myself to keep everything down. Swallowed all the blackened ashes of road dust that covered the whole of me. Drained all ammonia smelling salty sweat from within me. And imagined the blue green waving sea greeting the dark sands of Bogor beach.
In logic, there wasn’t any reason for me to be drowned in those feelings and internal perceptions. They all happened in the past. But the pain felt real. But I so love him and wanted to wear him over me everywhere in affection. For the person he really is. The person whom I fell in love with over and over again, no matter how difficult he can be – as I am now as difficult as he is – HAH!
I had been trying to transcript out how I felt. It was difficult. The words became something else and the topic became weary, directionless and went somewhere else than what I wanted to really express. Third time’s luck, I suppose.
No barrier I hold for him. And the same he responds to me.
I would be sprawling across the floor/bed/sofa and reaching to kiss him forehead. That’s how I feel. Deserving for the forehead. And he’d be pretending to crunch his head with and unhappy-but-actually-happy smile when I do.
Moving on, we’re planning another trip soon. And I’m loving my new hobby. If only I know how to ride.