Saturday, February 13th, 2010, 9:00pm

I left for the airport with a knot in my stomach, clouds fogging my mind as if I was fumbling towards some uncertain destination. I thrust clothes into my bag, cursing from a deep place of frustration as shirt by shirt, I managed to cram my portable belongings into a borrowed carry-on. I felt dazed, automated.. following the motions because the time on the clock was ticking down towards take off. I was not calm. Perhaps my hormones were to blame; perhaps they were a window into an honest part of my self that always lays hidden, mostly silent beneath the layers of complex identity and the hope that fills the rest of the holes. Here, I have a hole. Use google search to find “home” within me and you won’t find a thing. Only a vague jumble of mixed emotions, some idealized white picket fence golden retriever combo with settler family on a hilltop in Samaria. You’ll find a cloud.. darkness. Nothing feels real, only some unattainable ideal. I am alone in this world. My once-partner cast me out and stole the word ‘family’ from me. How can I even dream of ‘home’ when there is no place in me that knows what it looks like? And don’t mock me. Moving from place to place, tearing to pieces each time, simply because I am human, has left me with little belief, or faith, that i can have a home. Or even find the partner to build a home with.

Laurence sat quietly on the couch as I struggled to zip up the luggage. His presence was always a comfort; the physical never mattered with him. It was as if the other half of my soul sat just within reach, reunited. I didn’t know how to deal with the feeling.. his existence, his being, gave me a deep feeling of Home. Constancy. With him I was home. We could travel the world and always be home.. there was no need to try, it simply Was.

The shot of whiskey warmed my stomach but not the anxiety that had me in its grip with mocking ease. Soon we were in the car heading to the airport and I gasped from the pain. The dallas skyline passed before my eyes and I felt, yet again, the depth of my loss. The empty space where the image or understanding of ‘home’ should have been. With Laurence, I never felt alone, but there was little I could do other than reach out feebly for his arm and cling to the sleeve of his sweater as we drove.. I felt the tears as my hand became sweaty, powerless to fill the void eating me from within.

The car came to a stop somewhere by the gate and I moved mechanically to take my things out of the car. Mechanical door slam, closed trunk, hug, deep breath, hasty goodbye, step, step, up the escalator, check in, security.. The airport enveloped me before I knew it but I felt lost. I couldn’t do anything about it. I still had so far to travel, so much to sort out. There was never anything I could do. How to cope with the pain? How to regain hope, cover the feeling of helplessness?

How do I even dream of Home?