Out of the woods

It is eight pm on Sunday. I haven't been to work in almost a week, having been laid low by the worst flu I've ever been caught by. There was a moment on Tuesday when I thought that might be it. It was only mid afternoon, but everything started to turn dark and I made my way back to bed, unsure whether to call home or 911, but my temperature came down two degrees a day until I could promise John that I'd be able to make it out to collect him from the airport. If I'd gotten sick twelve hours later, I'm not sure if I could have done it, but I run a tight ship.

And then John came. <3. I love that boy and I don't care if everybody knows it. It felt so good to see him sitting in my different chairs. Or to hear him brushing his teeth just out of sight. To walk down my same steps to the BART station with him next to me. It felt normal, but the best kind of normal. Cozy. He was only here two days really, but it felt like it could have been forever. It's so hard to tell with him around. Time is something else entirely.

And then this will be my last normal week at work. The last week before my secret comes out. And then my manager is back and the secret comes out. Then a good week of work. Then a few days before days before John appears again and we're off to Paris, the one in France, which is what made this morning a little easier, knowing I'd see him again so soon, for so long. There is so much to do between now and then, though.

Truth be told, I'm a little scared. The quitting of one's job to do Something Entirely Different feels big, but at the same time, it feels like time.