A day later, Michael and I packed up our things and headed for Virginia. We would stop there, en route to North Carolina to visit my mother, so that I could show him the small town I grew up in. It took us about seven hours to get there and when we arrived it was like I had never left. The place still left a nauseating feeling in my stomach and all I could see were bad memories and everything I hated about the place I had once lived in. Moving from one location to another, never feeling quite settled.

I showed him all of the apartments I had grown up in and the houses that were my landing place for awhile.

We passed the park, which seemed to be the only lovely part about Staunton.

"We could go for a walk in park," he said.

"We could but we still have another six hours until we make it to North Carolina. If we go for a walk we'll get there late," I said. To be honest, I was a bit relieved of the fact.

The park was beautiful and it would've been wonderful to walk with him there, but something about the place made me ill and I couldn't stomach the idea of staying there any longer than I had to—I had just got there and I was already ready to leave.

Memory lane was not all it was cracked up to be... at least not my version of it. I had known relentless days of sorrow, from one dysfunctional moment to another, and didn't care to relive them.

The last stop was Waynesboro where my mother, sister, and I had relocated to about a year after I started high school. I drove us around and pointed out where I went to school and the last few places that I had lived, meanwhile taking note of all the things that had changed since I had been gone.

The new Walmart that was in place and the metamorphasis that some schools seemed to take on were uncanny. Some strange mixture of old meets new which appeared to be more like a failed attempt at modern society.

Once I had settled in the fact that I had showed him every place that I'd lived, we were ready to head out, and as we left I wondered how I managed to get through those years in those two dismal towns that felt like nothing other than an open graveyard.

When I was younger I had spent so many days thinking I was never going to get out of that place; that somehow it had a hold on me and I would never be able to break free. And that I would remain confined there until all of my days had passed and it was time to meet my Maker.

Strange how I thought that then, and how that couldn't have been further from the truth.

As we left the place, I couldn't deny the weight that lifted off of me as it distanced itself further behind us until it was nothing but a memory once again.

We arrived in North Carolina later than I thought. It was very dark on the back roads and I seemed to get us lost, yet once again. Trying to restrain my anger, I tried the best I could to retrace my steps and get us back on the right road.

Michael was very supportive as usual and my anger wasn't quite as relentless. I new the place fairly well, so I knew it was only a matter of time before I ended up on a road I recognized.

And finally when it happened, I rejoiced inwardly. I was anxious to see mom and we still needed to stop at the store and get mom a present.

It was her birthday and Michael wanted to get something for her, so we chose to stop at Harris Teeter along the way and pick out a nice bouquet of pink roses. A bouquet in which Michael would later jokingly call "gay pink."

We had eyed two pink bouquet of roses—one which was more of a neon pink, the other a pastel pink. I opted for the pastel bouquet, which was his least favorite of the two. But he had agreed to purchase it since I told him mom would like it best.

When we finally made it to the house, Michael was nervous. I assured him he had absolutely nothing to worry about, as mom was very easy to please. I knew that she would adore him... just as much as I did.

"Believe me, she'll love you. You've got it easy," I said. I looked over at him as we got out of the car. He was wearing his anxiety and at that moment it made me want to do everything I could to make him feel safe and comfortable.

In all the days that I'd been with him, I'd come to know him as a wonderful person. The many expressions of Michael, but none of the comparable to seeing him at a moment of vulnerability.

Nervousness, an attribute many of us would call a weakness, looked strangely moving to me as it took hold of him. There was something about the way he wore it that drew me to him even more, that made it even more clear to me that I wanted to take care of him for the rest of my life.

Truthfully, I knew that I would never be able to express how beautiful he looked to me, so I remained silent, as no words could ever describe what compelled me to feel the way I had.

We stepped inside. The house was quiet. I turned on the light and showed him the kitchen—pointing out a picture of me that mom had hung up years ago, that I had wanted to tear up into a million pieces and pitch into the fireplace.

Bad hair, bad skin and about fourty pounds heavier than I was at the time. There were times I had gotten in mind to pull that picture out of the frame and do away with it before mom came home from work... but alas, I never did.

And there we were, staring at the beastly picture—the type of picture that all women know they should dispose of before anyone else gets a hold of it and sees it.

Well... it was too late for me. I had told him about it and there was no going back. Truthfully, I supposed I wanted him to see it, because I felt it was essential that someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with had an undeniable right to see me at my absolute worst.

If he was going to know me... I wanted him to know me completely. Even the things I regarded as embarrassing, uncomfortable, or literally hideous. That was what love was all about, wasn't it? Loving one another in spite of all of the imperfections or faults the other had.

After we shared that moment, I headed for mom's room and opened her door. "Mom," I said, peaking in. "Are you dressed?"

"Hey, I was wondering where you were. What took you so long?"

"We got lost," I said. "And we arrived a bit late."

"Okay," she said with a big grin on her face. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

I pointed out a few things to Michael as we waited for her to come out. We viewed the dining area and the living room, and when she came out I gave her a hug.

"I'm so excited to see you. I missed you." I then introduced her to Michael. She welcomed him with open arms. "Oh he's cute. Aren't you cute?" she said. We then handed her the roses he bought for her. She was very happy and decided to put them on her mantle above the fireplace.

After we initially got over the excitement she decided to head off to sleep. I grabbed a quick bite to eat and then went upstairs to talk to Michael.

He was very grateful for the fact that she let us stay there. I snuggled up beside him. "I told you you had nothing to be nervous about," I said. "She really likes you."

The next day we chose to head to the local park. I had been so eager to show him Miller Park, as I always romanticized walking around the beautiful little park with him. After a bit of walking we moved to a nearby bench, and I laid my head on his shoulder and we talked and decided we'd later go to a movie and order some pizza.

After the movie we stopped at a store to grab some wine and then we settled in for the night. At home, we nestled ourselves on the floor in the room that once was mine. And I had my first taste.

"It tastes like mouthwash," I said.

"Well, it's not very good, really."

"Well if I have a sore throat, all I have to do is drink some of this and it'll clear it right up. I'm not quite sure how anyone likes this stuff."

"There are better varieties." He smiled at me.

Yes, we had gotten a fairly cheap version of wine, but I couldn't deny the experience was nice, and terribly romantic. What woman wouldn't like the idea of sitting next to the man she loved, tasting wine, and eating raspberries in an intimate setting?

What made me truly appreciate the time we had together even more was that tomorrow we would part yet once again. Michael had another course in Virginia and I would drive him there and then say goodbye.

After that I had one more special day with him—one that we would spend in Washington D.C. and then he would be off, heading back to England once again.

I dreaded the thought of it really, because now that I had him... I didn't want to let him go. It was hard enough spending four years apart from him, then finally meeting him and finding out he was even more than I hoped for. But I realized I could take solace in the fact that soon we would be together.

The years we'd spent becoming a part of each other's lives were irreplacable and life didn't feel complete without him, for he was every bit a part of me as I was a part of him, even if we didn't always understand one another.

We spent a good part of that night talking and enjoying one another's company, as we did most nights. Barely getting sleep, trying to take hold of the moments

as best as we could, but alas, tomorrow would come....

It would be another week before I'd see him again after dropping him off at his course. We then gave each other a hug goodbye after he got a bit settled in his room.

The rest of the week I stayed with mom, waiting for the last day to arrive. The day that I could hold onto for as long as I could. I eagerly anticipated it, counting the days as they went by.

Most of the week went fairly slow. I spent most days bored, entertaining myself with movies and going out a few places around town. It just wasn't the same without Michael.

So finally, when the day arrived I couldn't wait to leave.

Early that morning, I hugged my mother goodbye, then prepared myself to leave. I pulled out of the driveway, watching as she took her usual place on the porch to wave me goodbye. I waved back at her one last time and then I was gone.

I would miss her, in spite of the fact that I was more than ready to leave Winston-Salem. It had been nice to see her and show up on her birthday—especially with Michael. I deemed it was the perfect present, but there we were saying our goodbyes once again.

So soon? Time went so fast, it seemed. And the end that had come for my mother and I would soon take place between Michael and I, as well. But alas, I could hold on to that one last day as long as I could. That was enough to keep me happy for the time being.

I was late, when I finally made it back to Virginia. I had once again gotten lost along the way. I laughed at the irony of it all, because I had never gotten lost nearly as much as I had prior to meeting him.

I regarded in the end, it had to be fatigue and exhaustion. I'd spent many days running on fuel that I no longer had. It was clear to me that I was no longer as alert as I should have been. I was simply missing things that would be easy for me to comprehend if I was well rested.

It was about 10:40 in the morning when I finally arrived. In which case, I had expected to be there about forty minutes prior.

Michael was sitting in the parking lot when I finally pulled in.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I said, getting out of the car. "I got lost again."

He made a funny comment and I asked him how he enjoyed the course. He told me all of the things they'd done and then we went inside and he showed me around. Once I'd seen enough, we left about twenty minutes later.

We were on our way to Washington, D.C.—more or less Virginia, close to the Dulles Airport, but it was close enough to D.C. to consider it as such.

We arrived several hours later, and had a nice trip along the way. We talked and made jokes as usual.

Once we settled in our room for awhile we decided to head out and enjoy the town. About thirty minutes later we made it downtown, and after initially circling the same few blocks about four times, I finally pulled us into a parking garage and we headed out for a main attraction—the National Aquarium.

A little later, after being pointed in the right direction, we arrived. We sauntered about, looking at the different varieties of marine life. Some creatures were very beautiful, some were not so beautiful, and some were just plain odd.

We seemed to be having a resonably good time, but it did not escape me that we both were very fatigued and thirsty, and although the time was enjoyable the walk back was not highly desired.

So we decided to stop at a market along the way and grab something to drink.

During the time, we were held up, because unfortunately someone had an asthma attack in the store. So the lines were slowed down by the crises. When the paramedics finally came, the cashier got around to ringing us up and we left.

We headed out of downtown in my car. I followed the signs, but soon it became clear to me that I was either driving us in circles or getting us lost again. About an hour later, after relentless attempts of trying to get us back to the hotel, I was infuriated.

Michael sat quitely as I spouted out words of obscenity and drove like a mad woman. My knees were hurting, I was extremely tired, I didn't want to go to D.C. in the first place and deemed it was entirely his fault that we were there.

Once again, here I am dealing with the responsibility of the problem. He gets to sit nestled away in the passenger's side while I do all of the work, I thought. And I didn't bother to hide my thoughts in the process. I made it very clear how I felt about the entire situation.

Mostly I hadn't wanted to go out that day. I had been rather tired and had preferred to forego the trip to downtown because I preferred to spend the time alone with Michael. But I had chosen to go so that his trip to the States would be one to remember.

Sadly, during my escapade of trying to get us back to the hotel, I realized my choice had backfired on me and whatever joy I was trying to offer him had been disinigrated by the relentless anger that poured out of my mouth.

He spoke occasionally and tried to help as best as he could in light of my persistent fury and unreasonable behavior and about an hour later he succeeded, and we finally made it out of D.C. and back toward the hotel.

When we arrived, we stopped off to order some food to take it back to the room. And once I was in an agreeable mood again, I apologized to him and we enjoyed the rest of the night together talking and laughing as our usual selves. Then later that night we nodded off to sleep.

The next day arrived and when it was time to go we chose to venture out around town within a predictable vicinity, so I would have no chance of getting lost in.

We had several hours to waste before he was due for his flight out. So we chose to walk around for a bit and shared a cappicino from Starbucks. Then a little later we settled ourselves down in a nice Indian restaurant and ate. The staff was very friendly and the food was quite good.

It had been my first time tasting anything other than Chinese or Mexican, so I jumped at the chance at trying something new.

We delighted ourselves in conversation as usual and went back up for seconds. When we finished we headed out to several more places until it was time to head to the airport and say our goodbyes.

Once Michael got everything settled in line, he joined me once again.

"I thought you might like to walk me out to the car," I said. It was time to say goodbye—something I did not want to do but I braced myself with the fact that soon we'd be together again and the departure was only temporary.

We hugged several times and kissed goodbye.

"I don't want you to go," he said, after I got into the car.

"I know, but we don't have much longer," I said. Soon he'd graduate and then we'd be able to get married. Nine months I reminded myself. I did four years, I can do nine months. Don't cry, don't cry, I thought. You'll see him again soon.

I hesitated for a brief bit and then finally I said, "I should go... I love you."

"I love you too," he said. I smiled and captured one more glimpse of him before leaving. It would be another six or seven hours before I made it home.

It was a long drive ahead, but I was used to it. It went fast, because I reflected on our trip all the way home and remembered the fun we shared, the connection we made, the disagreements we had, but most of all... the love that brought us together.

I arrived sometime around midnight and after getting myself settled, I laid down and fell asleep with a sense of contentment that I'd never felt before, knowing that once again we'd continue with our usual weekend routine.

And so we did.

And still today things aren't much different. We have our belief differences. A large part of our struggle—but I remain optomistic in spite of most of the obstacles.

Michael and I—two people, worlds apart, brought together by one common denominator—love. We can expect to find the road a difficult one to travel, as anything that extraordinary is bound to have some equally powerful obstacles... but it doesn't mean they can't be defeated.

"I want to see your side of the world," I said to him one day, talking to him through our usual means of communication. The internet. "You still have to show me around England," I smiled, thinking about the fun we'd have. Then settled myself with that thought that someday, in the near future, I'd make it there.

So it will be my turn soon, and one day I'll make preparations. I will buy the ticket. Get on the plane, and arrive at my destination. England.

And we will, once again, meet at the airport and see each other as if it was the first time all over again. But maybe this time... there will be no goodbyes.

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