April 2nd, 1989
Presently at Ben’s, watching tv, sitting at opposite ends of the couch with our legs entwined. Blissful.
I knew there was no way I wanted to attempt the lengthy drive to Gatwick airport this morning, so I drove to the station and caught the train to London (then the tube, followed by another train to Gatwick.)
I arrived an hour before Ben’s flight and enjoyed some major people watching. I’ve said it before but I love watching everybody coming and going at the airport. It really is the place where you get to witness every human emotion, all the way from the happy reunions to the sobbing lovers who can’t bear to let go of each other. Having been on both sides, I can say I much prefer the reunion part as opposed to those last kisses and cuddles and how awful that last goodbye feels.
Once I saw on the board that Ben’s flight had landed, I didn’t dare take my eyes off the doors leading into the terminal. Each time the doors swung open my heart reacted in anticipation and I strained my neck looking for Ben’s fair hair.
Finally, he came through the doors, surrounded by half a dozen people, all of whom were talking and laughing together. I was tempted to run up to him but I managed to contain myself and waited until they’d said their goodbyes. I watched Ben push the heavily laden baggage trolley in the direction of where we’d arranged to meet and I ran up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He immediately turned round, opened his arms and I literally jumped into them, wrapping my legs around his waist. We kissed for what felt like absolutely ages. Truly, the most fantastic reunion ever.
All the way home, we held hands and talked nonstop. Just being that close to Ben is beyond description, as it is now, with his face just a few feet from mine. Every few minutes, I stop writing just so I can look at him and when he smiles at me, well, there are no words.
We came here first and had dinner with his parents’ and his sister, Jill. They had lots of questions about his time in Italy but unlike me with my parents’, Ben doesn’t really love talking about stuff that’s already happened. I think Susan and Stan sometimes mistake his lack of interest for aloofness and his dad gets annoyed with him.
Took our time walking to my house to wish mum a happy birthday, she’s forty-eight today. Enjoyed some birthday cake with everyone and watched mum opening her presents. I don’t think mum looks her age at all, when she’s well she’s very youthful and vibrant. Sadly, that changes when she goes to what she sometimes refers to as “the dark tunnel,” but at the moment she’s great and certainly enjoyed tonight’s birthday celebration.
When Ben and I were leaving to go back to his, dad quipped, “don’t be too late coming home.” I caught Nana’s eye and sensed she understood that there’s no way I’ll be going home tonight.