when doubt starts to set in...

There are a lot of moments that are engraved into my brain from the few days I had after I came back to Utah from Florida to pack up my small apartment... And all of them started running though my brain while I sat at my parent's counter top in their kitchen after I had brought my last load of crap to their house. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe, reminding myself that it was the right thing.

Between sobs, I talked to my mom and my brother. I had said goodbye to a majority of the family. We had a little, "Amanda is moving out of the state, time to say goodbye" party, which consisted of a BBQ and as much family as we could gather, but that still isn't something I remember very well.

I remember sobbing, resting my head on the cold counter top, and telling myself to breathe.

And listening to Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson over and over again. The words spoke to me. The explained my situation. They hit home, or Florida, if we're speaking in a literal sense.

This time that I was spending, crying on that counter, was the last time I would see both of my parents for a year. And that was hard. Little did I know, it was the last time I would see both of them living in that house.

It was the moment I realized what I was leaving behind. And that was everything. My materialistic belongings? I would only have what I could fit on the plane. And I was okay with that. I was prepared for the adventure. Or so I thought.

The past week was running through my head. My apartment was totally empty, and I didn't even have my keys anymore. I would be staying with my cute adopted sister in the apartment below me that night, and she would be driving me to the airport in the morning... And memories started flooding my mind, like they were attacking me one by one, trying to get me to stay.

Mike is this guy that I had dated off and on when I wasn't on with Brown Boot... He started out as a drunk accident when I was in a terrible emotional state, and just kind of stayed around. He was hard to get rid of... I knew I loved him, but I also knew that he wasn't good for me and that I didn't honestly want to be with him, which is why I kept leaving. Here he was, ready for marriage, and I knew I didn't want it with him...

Anyway, when I had made my decision to leave, Mike was dating another girl. They were pretty serious, living together. He kept telling me he would never love her like he loved me, yet he wouldn't leave her for me. Like he was trying to keep me around for whatever reason... There was a night when I was packing up my things and he wanted to come over to say goodbye. I was sitting on his lap outside on my balcony, looking at the city stars and having a cigarette in the sweet summer air, and he started crying. He begged me not to go. He was afraid he would never see me again. He cried again when we went back inside and talked on the floor of my living room. The bed he bought me for Valentine's day was gone. Everything was gone. All that I had was clumps of dog hair all over the floor, and some other items that I was still sorting through. He kissed me and I cried... But I sucked it up and told him to leave... And kept telling him that

I had to do this. I had to leave. And he kept begging me to stay...

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I had to. I knew that if I didn't leave, I would stay in this disgusting cycle that I was in with him, and that it wasn't going to be good for me. I needed to get out. There was something for me in Florida. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was there.

The morning after Brown Boot and I had our "last night" together played in my head. I woke up, totally wrapped up in him like no time had passed between that time, and the time we woke up in the same bed before that. Our bodies were totally intertwined, and I can tell you for a fact that since I was with him I have never woken up like that. I woke up smiling. We were both smiling. Sweaty. Loved. It felt natural, like we had been doing it forever, and like it would continue until the day we died. I could feel his breath on my neck and his chest hair tickling my back when we breathed... and each breath was taken together. I was scared of leaving Utah,

because I knew it would put me farther away from him,

and he was the big thing I wanted. If he asked me to stay I would have. But he didn't... In fact, he encouraged me to go.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

At the coffee house, people kept telling me that I wouldn't really go. They kept telling me that it was a joke. They didn't believe me. Which made me want to go even more. I loved my job at the time, but now I know I would never go back even if the owner asked me to (and he has, by the way...). I knew that there was some thing better

for me in Florida.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I had images of the city blurring through my mind... The coffee houses, the trees, the avenues, the U of U, the mountains, the lake... All of was wizzing through my head. And it started spinning. Breakaway played in my head, over and over.... and I knew I had to go.

I have to leave.

Keep breathing.

I have to leave.

Keep breathing.

Before I knew it, that little adopted sister I keep mentioning was dropping me off at the curbside check in and giving me a kiss goodbye. We took a couple pictures with our phones, hugged, kissed a few more times, and I was on my way in through security. It all blurred past me... The only thing I remember from the airport now, was getting on the plane and listing to the Florida mix I had made on my iPod before I had packed away my computer.

Once the plane took off and I felt the pressure change of being up in the air and flying over the mountains, my mantra changed. I felt okay. I knew I could do it.

This is right.

This is right.

I'm headed where I need to be.

This is right.

This is right.

I'm headed where I need to be...

Palm trees.

the hard goodbye... part 2

Tears were streaming down my face. I was sobbing. It was one of the most romantic things I had ever heard. It was sad, but romantic. I had an insane combination of happiness and sorrow running through my body from the top of my head, down through the tips of my toes.

It goes back to that last season of Friends. Things ending. Different things beginning.

Brown Boot was my lobster.

And yes, that's another Friends reference. Look it up if you don't know, and then slap yourself in the face once a day until you've watched the whole series. Or I'll slap you slap bet style. (That one was from How I Met Your Mother... another show you need to watch if you haven't already.)

I'm not really sure of when we had talked before this conversation. I take that back. It was Mother's Day that year. Right after I had told him about losing the baby. I asked if that day counted for me too, and he said no. And then I hear from him while I'm getting things ready to move as far away from him as I could get....

The message he had sent me after he asked me about leaving, was something along the lines of, "I know you're leaving, and I don't know when I'll see you again after you go... But we always talked about having one last night together, and I'd like to see you one more time. Can we have one last night together?"

I sobbed as I read the text to my friend. She was in shock. I was in shock. My heart was in my throat. One hand was wiping tears away from my eyes, and the other was holding my phone and the steering wheel.

One last night... Would it really be the last night? Would it really end after this? I had always said that it was never goodbye with us. "Love is not dead" is permanently engraved on my wrist.

I said yes.

Yes?

Did I really say yes? Was I putting myself in that position again? That position where I would potentially hurt myself all over again? Destroy myself?

Apparently so.

His 21st birthday was July 16, and he would be leaving on the eighteenth to go down to Georgia to stay with his mom for a couple weeks, and then I'd be leaving for Florida a couple days after that. His choice. Not mine. Honestly, I would have settled to see him whenever, but the night of his birthday was his idea. He chose to be with me one last night instead of going out and drinking like crazy with his friends. He picked me.

I spent all day getting ready. I trimmed up my hair, styled it a million ways, tried on a million different outfits with a trillion different accessories, and played with my makeup. I showed each option to my friend, constantly running up and down the stairs to grab new things and try different suggestions. I mu

st have driven my land lady crazy.

His plan was to buy beer for the first time when he was done with work, and then come to pick me up. There was silence on both ends of the phone while he was at work. For a while I was nervous that he would back out. That I would have wasted a day getting ready to have one last night that would never happen. Something that would have only happened in my dreams. I waited down in my friend's apartment. I sat on her couch, and we talked, wasting time and waiting for my phone to make a noise and let me know that he still wanted this as much as I did.

And then my phone buzzed and danced on the table around 10PM. He was on his way. And he'd call me when he was there. My heart jumped again into my throat. That seemed to be its new home. It didn't want to stay down in my chest. Good thing hearts aren't colostrophobic, because mine seemed to spend more time making its presence known in smaller areas of my body.

By the time he called me, he was already at my door upstairs. And it was time for me to have my staircase moment. You know what I'm talking about. In a lot of movies, the girl has her staircase moment, where the camera catches her walking on the stairs, and that's when the guy gets hit with a brick and realizes that he is in love with her. My friend kissed me on the cheek and wished me luck.

I opened her door and turned towards that staircase. Two flights. Thirty seconds. About a dozen stairs. I could make it. I took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other, and reminded myself to keep breathing. I focused on the smaller details of that hallway and the stairs of my 1920's apartment building... The worn carpet... The old light fixtures... The window that didn't open between the first and second flight... and then I saw him.

I swear, angels started singing in my head. My heart fluttered, and butterflies multiplied in my stomach. And the biggest smile spread across my face. There were a few times I had felt this way, and every time it was when I saw him. He looked good. It had only been a couple months since I had seen him, and to me he always looked good. He was wearing his hat and jacket and work polo, which was one of the few times you could actually catch him in a polo. He was holding his first six pack in his hand with a huge grin on his face, and a smile in his eyes. And he was wearing the brown boots.

Before I knew it, I was in his arms. I felt his scruff against my cheek, and smelled work in his clothes. He was warm... Cold from the summer air outside, but warm once our bodies made contact. And he kissed me like he always had, a hand up in my hair, pulling me in closer. He always kissed me like he meant it.

I showed him my empty apartment, and that was the moment he realized that I was really leaving. We didn't have a whole lot of memories in that apartment. Enough for him to remember what it looked like when I actually had stuff in it. Enough for him to recognize that once I left that place, I would never go back. My life was changing before his very eyes. I was growing up.

We drove separately so that I could leave when I needed to the next morning, and he could focus on getting things ready for Georgia. I met him at the front door and we tiptoed our way down to his bedroom.

I had only been in this bedroom one time before, and that was right before Mother's Day. Then, we couldn't stay in there for long, because we both knew where we would end up if we stayed down there. The quilt I made him was still on his bed. The stuffed animals I gave him were still in his room...

Now I don't need to tell you what happened between the two of us in that room. I can tell you that it felt like no time had passed between the last time and that night. We stayed up all night talking and making love like we had done so many times before. It didn't feel like goodbye. It felt perfect. It felt right. It felt like that was where I was supposed to be at that moment in time. I felt beautiful. I felt loved. I felt complete. That one thing that I knew I was missing had been found again. But I knew that we both still had to get on our planes when the time came.

The next morning, he gave me a pair of PJ pants to wear and a shirt. We talked for a couple hours that morning and decided that we were going to see Transformers that day... A date. A goodbye date? Or something? Whatever. It was like old times, but different. Something was changing. We were evolving.

I hate to tell you this.... But with Brown Boot and I saying goodbye? There is a part 3. He promised to see me when I moved to Florida while he was still in Georgia.

I told you, it was never goodbye.