This is what happens immediately after Jeff leaves. Don’t worry babe, it’ll be clean before you get home.
With Jeff in the US for a couple of weeks, I had to find a
new rhythm as a lone wolfette. I was used to being a pair, a traveling unit, a
team. It’s strange being alone and furthermore, it’s strange that it’s strange
being alone. I haven’t been alone for more than a few hours for over 7 months.
That’s just crazy! All of the sudden, time was mine to fill, space was mine to
clutter, expectations were mine to buildup and ignore. What a novelty.
I was a glutton in the first few days, scheduling Skype
dates with all of my girlfriends, using the internet on our boat without
abandon, drinking boxed wine like we were about to go on a 30 day passage,
watching all of the girly television that Jeff just can’t abide (think
America’s Next Top Model). I went to bed late and slept in until the heat of
the day forced me out of the V-berth. I stayed in my pajamas as long as humanly
possible.
I found myself eating things that Jeff probably wouldn’t
consider sufficient enough to constitute an actual
meal. For instance, a half a kilo of yogurt with a half a kilo of strawberries
was my dinner for nearly a week (I’m turning into my father!). I cut lunch out
of my diet completely.
The boat fluctuates between a state of complete chaos and
disorder, and a state of pure domestic, orderly bliss. My things are spread
across both setees and I happily bounce between sitting on Jeff’s side, then my
side, then Jeff’s side, then my side. I do dishes only when I run out of
silverware.
Eventually, realizing that this regime was completely
unsustainable, I settled back into a more balanced routine. I stopped watching
so much TV and resumed reading at night. I started going to bed earlier with a
cup of tea rather than a glass of wine. I woke up with the sun and started
running each morning. I was more deliberate about keeping things orderly. I worked
until mid-day and emerged from the cave called Serenity to hang out with the
guys at the marina, drink a beer (or couple) and grab some food from a carreta
in town. I would go on little side adventures to the city or to the beach. Life
started to look pretty normal, just a few adjustments here and there.
I don’t mind being alone, I actually crave it sometimes, but
on the whole I don’t think it’s my preferred state of being.
It didn’t take long for me to start missing Jeff. It was
actually pretty immediate. Since most of my time in Mexico I’ve been a “we”, I
had forgotten how to conjugate verbs in the singular first person form.
Whenever anyone asked me a question, I would immediately (without thinking)
respond with a “we” or “nosotros” instead of an “I” or “yo”:
“Where are you going?”
“We’re going running.”
“Are you looking for something?”
“We’re looking for…”
In that first week the people here must have thought me
possessed. There’s that gringita with the
imaginary sidekick! Eventually I caught on and am slowly adjusting to the
singular first person. It’s good for improving my grasp of the Spanish language
and expanding my vocabulary, but I start to miss the “we.” For one thing, it’s
easier to conjugate…for another thing, being a “we” makes this experience
richer for me. Cultivating the “we” is an important aspect of this whole trip.
The night before Jeff hopped on an airplane we stayed up
until 2am talking, which is maybe one of my favorite things. It’s reminiscent
of our earlier days together, before we started dating, when we would stay up
late into the night because neither one of us wanted to say goodbye just yet.
You never know when one of these conversations might appear, tear open the
fabric of time and suck you in like a black hole. I miss our little exchanges
and our long conversations.
It’s a blessing and a curse that both Jeff and I dislike
talking on the phone. It means that neither one of us holds it against the
other when we don’t talk regularly, but it also means that we don’t talk on the
phone (or Skype, in this case) when we’re apart.
But to be perfectly honest, it feels really really good to
miss Jeff. The anticipation and excitement that comes with missing him is just
as novel as being alone for the first time in seven months. Who knew that one
thing I would come to miss during this trip, is the sensation of missing my
husband.
Only four days to go!