I went to St. Pete a few weeks ago. I said I’d never go there again after Bo died. St. Pete represents too much trauma for me.
I had actually been in Pinellas County (the county St. Petersburg is in) a few times last November. I had told myself that I would never go anywhere in Pinellas County. But this was when I was trying to get my phone hacked to retrieve Our lost love messages and the only guy I could find was in Pinellas County, though not St. Pete. I did pass through St. Pete while riding on the highway back to my house. I almost held my breath as I traveled through, trying to scan for any familiar marks.
An educational opportunity awaits me in St. Pete. I had known about it for some time. I had long since tossed the idea aside. Then I picked it back up. An information session was coming up and I reminded myself that there was nothing for me in St. Pete. I tossed it aside. And then at the last minute, I made a decision to go. I knew I wouldn’t be there long and I was pretty sure the area I was going to wasn’t near anything I would recognize: the place where He got into the car accident, or the place where His memorial was held.
The last time I had to cross the Skyway bridge from my direction was for His memorial. I have never returned to St. Pete, even to see old lover. I gripped the steering wheel tightly and took many deep breaths. I followed my GPS. I looked around making sure I didn’t recognize anything that reminded me of Bo, or my old student that died. I felt okay.
I went to the info session and wasn’t in St. Pete for any longer than an hour. I thought of calling old lover. I didn’t do it though. Actually, I needed to get home to attend the live session of my grad class online. Also, I think I didn’t want to be over there in the dark. The dark plays tricks on my mind in the silence of a solo car ride. And me and the Skyway Bridge have an interesting history — something Bo helped me through one day about a year ago. I looked at everything slowly and carefully as I drove away. I called my mother and told her I did it.
I still don’t want to go there again.
The following stories are linked in the one above. It helps me to know where I’ve been and where I’m going.
The place where I met Love was not a place of joy. It was a place of sadness, isolation, and betrayal.medium.com
So, the money I spent on the two pieces of software plus the cost of rooting my phone and the multiple almost hour-long…medium.com
There I was sitting in a fucking church, full of people who I hoped like, loved, admired, somethinged Bo….because…medium.com
It is Saturday, again. This is probably a marker for Love’s family as it marks the day of the crash (or it could be…medium.com