goodbye, my dear

I did it.

I packed the boy up and put him on a bus. he's Taking Off. we talked the talk; it's over, and I'm a single kitty again, lord be praised. I took him to the station, we said our goodbyes, he climbed on his bus, he waved, I waved, and I walked away.

it soon became apparent it wasn't going to be that easy. I should have known, I mean: it didn't even rain on the way.

and the axiom in my life is: Nothing shall go without complication.

it happens to be the axiom of his life, too, which is half the reason why we've been dragging this on for so long, I would say.

thus, I should have known.

I drove home ahead of a mild thunderstorm (cortesy of Emily or Eugene or whoever is the starring hurricane these days) only to have my mother run out in a total frenzy, saying they had pulled Tim off the bus and he was still at the terminal. furthermore, the bus had left with his hand luggage in it.

can you imagine my happiness when I heard that.

I drove back to the terminal under the aforementioned thunderstorm planning murderous thoughts for whoever it was that overbooked the ride. I just couldn't believe how terrible this was; there he was, off to his great adventure, to find himself and think about what he wants to do and all that, and already he's had two misfortunes, the second of which being left by his bus and sans luggage.

the first being that Chacho peed over some of his stuff just before we left. the good ole so-long.

anyway, I was more bummed out that he seemed to be when I got there. he already had the situation half under control; I honestly only had to dot the i's. his Spanish is still cringeworthy, but if he summons enough courage to make himself be heard, he can manage. I'm sure he'll be able to manage.

he left an hour later, after much fist and index shaking and a lot of head movement, so we only had time for very rushed goodbyes.

and now it's over.

goodbye, boy. I'm sure you'll be fine. Go and find yourself. go with my love and my blessings. it was one hell of a ride.