I drove into Daly City about 9:30 or so. Cloudy sky, even a little damp and somewhat cold. Just another June day. I got out of my car and looked around. A relatively empty street, most people already gone to work. I went up to my ex's door and rang the bell.

I heard her dog bark. After a moment or two she opens the door. She's on the phone, taking a break from her conversation to invite me in. She disappears into the bedroom. I stay with her dog.

Her dog was so sweet, as always. She wanted me to hug her and rub her belly like I used to. I just couldn't. I petted her gently.

"All things must come to an end." I whispered. I swear, her dog seemed to understand. She even looked sad.

I looked around her living room. It was newly painted, the colors I helped her choose. I always thought we would be painting it together. Boy, was I so wrong. So many familiar odors, so many memories in this house, so many questions, now so much sadness.

She finished her conversation, came back to the living room, apologizing. No bid deal, I told her.

She had a bag of stuff, plus something in her hand. She reached out to give it to me. It was a leather bracelet, worn, one of the first gifts she gave me. She made me give it to her as it started to deteriorate, after several months. She kept it on a little altar in her bedroom. She also gave me back some clothes, including some pajama bottoms she bought for me. It actually caught me by surprise. I gave her a couple of books and a bag of her pot that I had been holding for her.

I really didn't want to talk much. I didn't know if I would ever see her again. I knew I had to finish this stage, exchanging stuff and getting that obligation out of the way. She started the whole process, urgently calling me one weekend, and trying to get me to meet her within the day to return the stuff.

I realized that it wasn't a good idea. It would be a bad way to start the week. We exchanged some terse e-mails, and then I soon realized I felt the same urgency, prompting me to set up the meeting.

What I had to say I already wrote. I thought we could be friends again some day, but for now, every conversation we had just seemed to end up in the same arguments.

Not much to say, I just wished her well on the trip she was about to take, and headed toward the door. We both stood on her porch, her dog behind the screen door behind us.

"Say goodbye K," she told her dog.

I looked at the dog. I felt we already said our goodbyes. I told her bye and headed toward the car.

I already knew what song I wanted to play. I took it out of my cd case and popped it in. My cd player had been giving me trouble lately, but for some reason, maybe for this reason, it worked this morning. I love that old car.

I wanted to hear Solsbury Hill, by Peter gabriel. It was always a good song for life transitions, moving on from things that weren't pleasant. It was the song I played when I moved to San Francisco. I just chose the cd randomly, and it played. It just seemed so right at that moment. I drove off fast.

"You can keep my things, they've come to take me home!"

music:

night life:

sex life: