I haven’t posted here in a long time as I feel I need to finish writing about Germany. I left off in Berlin. I had a dream last night about Luca, his family and his beautiful home in Lübeck. It was all so real and now, eight months later it’s fresh again.
My last week in Germany was spent back in Lübeck writing and relaxing. Luca had to go back to work so for the most part I had the house to myself. I made myself memorize every detail about the house, the creaky steps, the beautiful windows, the burgundy stone floors and the garden.
This is my happy place now.
When things are hard in the bush logging, when I have a bad day – I remember the house. When it’s -34 and my hands won’t work with me while I try to grease my machine I remember the piano that trailed beautiful music up it when fucking Gregor played. I remember strong coffee in the morning shared together and the strong wind that went right through me on the coast of the Baltic Sea. Running together trying to get to the ferry to Föhr before it left and having to stay the night in the expensive, cheesy hotel to wait for the next one.
After two weeks in Germany I noticed how different I felt and Luca commented that I was different, that for once stress had no hold on me and I was light as air. Our days together came to an end and on my last night there I couldn’t help myself from tears. I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to stay. I couldn’t bear to face going back to my old life. It physically hurt to leave Luca. I was so torn and afraid. I knew when I got home it would be easy for us to fall apart.
I knew things would change.
On our last night we layed on his bed listening to Ludovico Einaudi in candlelight with the windows open to the cool night air. I couldn’t keep hot tears from falling. I desperately didn’t want us to come to an end. I had never and have never in my life felt so connected to anyone. At one point we layed in silence, me silently letting the tears fall and him somber and quiet. “I want to be in a relationship with you.” he said.
I had looked at him and frowned. I thought he was joking for some reason. Turns out he was being serious. I was then over the moon and crushed at the same time. I tried even more to bank in my memory every small detail about him and my time spent there.
The next morning I had an impossible time. I packed my things and tears were never far away from my face. My throat felt tight and I dreaded everything about this day that was to inevitably come.
On the way to the airport I remembered how giddy, overtired and jet lagged I had been when I had arrived. Luca turned on the radio and “Teach Your Children Well” by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young was playing. I could feel the water works come on again. I felt beside myself watching the whole thing happen from outside as if it were a movie. Surely the airport scene would turn this horribly sad film around? I blankly stared at the brick scenery and passing windmills with low hopes.
At the airport a part of me wanted him to go away from me so I could give in to my brokenness and fall apart. He didn’t. He stayed. He sorted my tickets and luggage out and suggested we had a cup of coffee. He drank coffee and I sat beside him ready to break down sobbing at any moment. I asked how he was able to stay so composed. He looked really handsome that day in a crisp blue dress shirt and said that yesterday he had meditated and it had helped him to collect himself. I could hardly stand how hard this was. Please something work out for us I quietly begged the universe.
This part is the hardest.
We were stood in line waiting for me to go through security and he hugged me hard and I (of course) started crying again. We separated and I thought he would leave. He didn’t. He just stood there and watched me with a look I will never forget. Ever. I can’t even explain what that look might have been but he wouldn’t break it off to look away. Those dark eyes pierced into mine. Finally I was on the other side of the glass and he pointed to the door for him to leave and I nodded and turned towards my gate. Somehow once he was gone I was able to pull it together a bit for the plane ride to Munich. It wasn’t until I was on the plane to Vancouver that I felt the distance burn. I repeatedly went through everything that had happened, every detail of everywhere we had been and it was all so beautiful. Sat beside a man flying back to Vancouver from China I silently cried while I watched blankly as clouds and skyline floated by out the window. I knew we wouldn’t last. That he had dreams for himself in Germany and I thought then that I would want to share those dreams with him but after about a week spent at home I realized that the cabin, however far from finished or clean, was where I belonged.
We tried to keep in touch after I got home and then he told me he couldn’t do it and I really fell apart. Depression got its thin fingers firmly wrapped around me and B didn’t seem to want me back to work when spring breakup ended.
Logging has been the hardest kind of work I have ever done and the most rewarding. The hours, the exhaustion, the challenges it has brought. I made new friends in this time that helped push me outside of my comfort zone and I grew more independent and started to be able to look back in my short time there and feel proud at the obstacles I had gotten through and felt both humbled and proud. Logging has aged me faster then I could have ever imagined, lines cross my face now when I smile and some of the guys never miss a chance to point this out. Still, I can’t imagine doing anything else as the time in the machine gives me endless hours to reflect and work through my thoughts. Being out in the wilderness everyday with other people more or less traveling along in the same boat, is comforting.
They feel like family now.
When I’m working those long hours in my machine my mind leaves me and goes back to Germany, and I let it. It is a small comfort to remember my short time spent there. Luca and I haven’t spoken in months. I tried to find him on my Facebook this morning to message him a hello and to tell him about my dream and to maybe try to close our silence, but he was gone. Wether he has blocked me or since then deleted his account for whatever reason I will never know. This finding hurts and I know we will never speak again, that we have lost each other completely.
I know he will never see this and more then likely has very much moved on to pursue his dreams.
But if you ever do stumble across this.. I can’t listen to Damien Rice or Ludivico Einaudi anymore. I try hard to move forward but the memories are burnt into my head. My heart.. well my heart must still be there with you, for I haven’t felt it beat in a long time.
I hope you are well and I miss you deeply.