A year has passed since I made a fool of myself at a Canada Day party, resulting in my being kicked out of Kat's and my house. The time I spent out of that house and in that of my mother's was so much easier and also so much harder. I no longer had to be faced with the reality of what was (or rather, wasn't) left of her and I; yet I then had to face a different reality. I had to face the fact that there was no turning back, there would be no last-minute comeback for me. It was over, forever broken and all the force of will that I could muster would be as useless as a prayer.
A year later, and I'm still in love with her. As always, I know that this will fade and one day I'll be OK. But at this point I'm starting to wonder really how long this will last. Its the little things that have been haunting me lately. All of the things that I used to remember about her that stood out as beacons of why I love her seem to be pointless now; those same events could have happened with anybody. Events like the car crash brought us together; but they would have brought anybody together. What has stood the test of time in my mind has been the strangest things.... the things that I rarely thought about, and even now I remember more of how she made me feel and less of what we did.... the things I do remember are the little things that fed the feelings and made our romance so storybook (for the time that it was good, at least).
The sundays we used to spend together in the spring, thats the sort of thing that has stuck with me. I don't remember almost any of those days. But I remember that, like clockwork, our weekend would start with me working at the club friday and saturday. Friday she'd finish up her week's homework, and Saturday she'd come party at the club (where we were once co-workers, which is how we met). Sunday morning she'd be hungover as hell, and I'd toss her into the shower and drag her down to the bus depot for the best hangover cure breakfast that Penticton had to offer. After that she'd feel much better, and we'd wander and talk and generally spend the day occupying ourselves with just being together. Neither of us had our kids for the weekends, and come sunday all of our responsabilities had been taken care of.... all we had left to do was spend time with one another. And all this was before her and I even started seriously dating.
One of the few events that stands out in my mind without it being a massive unforgettable event (like the car accident) is another one from the time when we were just falling in love. I had just moved into the house... maybe I'd lived there a few weeks tops. She was planning to spend the whole weekend in Summerland with her parents, so I was going to have the house to myself. I came home after my shift at the club, exhausted and ready for sleep, to find her car in the driveway. I noted it curiously, but thought nothing of it. Once I got inside I found my bedroom light on, which I also found curious.... and then I saw that there was a note on my pillow. I can almost remember the words perfectly... it read something like "Came home after all, I've got no kid for the weekend and I wouldn't mind company, just come on upstairs". That was one of the first nights I spent next to hers, never stopping to think that in a matter of a few months that would cease to be her bedroom and start being ours.
I think that what set Kat appart from all the women before her, and what continues to set her apart from all the women I've romanced since her, is the way she loved. For the time I had her, she gave herself 100% to me and I returned it. It was unfiltered, it was uncensored and completely trusting. We loved eachother so much, simply because the other loved us the way they did.
As people get older and mode jaded, that sort of unreserved love will become harder and harder to find. I wonder if I'm even capable of it, after how its burned me. I hope I'm capable of it again. I would do anything to feel that way again. I'd give even more if it didn't end with a knife in my back this time.