i have discovered that the status of my relationship with danny is a matter of circulation.
during the first year of our relationship we traded phone calls. during the second, third, fourth, and fifth years of our relationship we traded weekend visits between washington, dc and charlotte. during the sixth year of our relationship we passed back and forth moments wondering what the hell we were doing. i was slogging through a year of americorps and a second round of applications to graduate school and danny was dealing with a military that just couldn’t decide when they were going to send them to baghdad already.
then came iraq, and our seventh year was filled with a circulation of words. letters to and from an APO address. boxes heading to the middle east filled with magazines and food and DVDs and returning with carved wooden vases from the open market and strange currency featuring a smug saddam hussein. broken phone calls at unexpected times, our words coming through five seconds after we’d said them. these days i feel a little panicked without my cell phone, and we often talk over each other when the connection is good. i think both of these are symptoms of a year i spent afraid of missing a phone call because i knew that i wouldn’t be able to return it. a year spent timing my replies a few seconds before i wanted him to hear them. we circulated the anxiety about what could happen while he was there, tossing it back and forth before it could settle too long in one place and keep us up at night.
yesterday we ended that seventh year and started our eighth. which is my lucky number.
and so far the luck seems to be working. the only thing we’re circulating these days is CDs. i don’t think there has been a moment since we’ve both been living in the same state ::gasp:: that we’ve both been in possession of our entire music collection. he just left, taking his snow patrol CD as well as my audio version of david sedaris’ holidays on ice. i got in the car and realized that he’d left the new jason mraz in my changer. for the past two months he’s had my copy of the postal service. i think i have it now. i think.
but of course he just left, because we’re still circulating between killeen and houston, learning the names of the series of small towns that separate us. somerville. caldwell. rodgers. brenham.
i’m looking forward to this eighth year, which will be characterized by the slow process of figuring out how to stay put. wedding plans, apartment hunts, and job searches.