I’ve been home for 13 days. That’s how long I stayed with my lover after I returned. Unfortunately my lover is cruel. He is destructive. I only let him out to play on holiday, and when I say holiday I mean travel. Because travel is no holiday, it’s essential. Lifeblood. The time I feel most like me, as I would like to be. He is good for me for the short bursts - he helps me get around, he keeps me from sitting too still. He turns mean after two weeks together. The parting is hard. Freak outs, tears. Anger that’s not really there. Now I am just me again. I feel me everywhere. My left hip. My popping shoulders. Both feet. I’ll forget him and I’ll be okay, while looking forward to our next tango. I’m not sure how long I can keep the dance up but it’s working for me now. Long live the dance, long live my independence from my lover. Long live my wanderlust.