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Purple Glen, for lovers November 14, 1999 Sunday

It was dark by the time we made it back to the hotel. Sunday night. Our last night. I don't want to think about tomorrow.

I think I'm already gone. My mind keeps wandering to the inevitable departure. I want to stay, I don't want to leave. Karl seems to be thinking the same thing. I get the feeling more than once that he has something he wants to say, but he never does.

Our last night. A very nice steak dinner at the Peak Bistro, marred only by a carrot that had strong survial insticts. It ended up on the floor behind Karl. We laughed so hard and then Karl captured it and threw into the empty bread basket, causing addtional gales of laughter at what the kitchen might think about that.

Gales of laughter puncuated by periods of silence, as we dealt with the coming end to this wonderful adventure.

I was very subdued that night. Love was sweet but the pain of separation was already starting to set in. I wanted to be close, to be held, to... Well I think I wanted him to say don't go. I don't know what I would have done if he had. I truly don't. But Karl wouldn't say that, even if that was what he wanted to say. He is too fair minded. Me, I'm at a point in my life when I say, why not?

Karl called his nephew to arrange for a pick up at the airport at 4pm on Monday. That suprised me. I expected to say goodbye at the hotel. My baby was going with me to the airport, going to see me off. He also talked to his sister, his nephew's mom. I found out that she had been told what Karl was doing in Winnipeg. And suprisingly her response was, "as long as it makes you happy." That made me feel a little better. I think I do make Karl happy.

We held each other that night. I'm afraid I wasn't as amourous as Karl. To distracted I guess. Already saying good-bye while the man I love was right there next to me. All I had to do was roll over.

November 15, 1999 Monday

Oh what a horrible, horrible day. Poor Karl. I was less than receptive, and he was so sweet. We dressed and went down to breakfast then went out to shop for a gift for Dawn. Our adopted daughter. At Portage Place we looked in at several shops. I was also looking for a 3rd piece of luggage. Something to carry on just for books etc. Finally Karl spied the perfect solution. A Pooh-Bear back pack. I'll use it for the trip, then give it to Dawn, a huge Winnie-the-Pooh fan. A Pooh bag from Pooh's native country.

Yep, Winnie-the-Pooh, is from Winnipeg. Hence, Winnie. A real bear cub adopted by a soldier and eventually moved to England where one "Christopher," the son of a friend of A. A. Milne's called him Pooh, for reasons known only to him. Christopher Robin and Winnie-the-Pooh have entertained generations of children and adults. Uh-oh, there's the history professor again. Sorry.

One thing I kept glancing at that Karl doesn't know is the numerous jewelery stores we passed. What can I say. I love Karl very much. I want to spend the rest of my life in his arms. I feel empty without him, incomplete. Soulmates are like that.

Back at the room we finished packing. I know I disappointed Karl, and I'm so sorry. I tried to keep busy, tried not to think of what comes next. I called the limo company that brought me to the hotel on Novemember 10, and arranged for a pick up at 12 noon, checkout time.

At 11:45 a.m. we were ready and Karl said we should go. The last time in the room, the last time in the elevator, the last day in the hotel. I was so miserable. (Continued at ILU)

For the rest of this last installment and all 23 pages of the saga. Go to our joint page. Internet Lover's Unite.

It has been over 3 months since I first met Karl. Actually over 103 days. Which means it has been over 90 days since I walked away from him in that airport. I will never do that again. I miss him terribly. I spend a good portion of my time trying to figure out how to get back there and never ever leave. Not as easy a proposition as it seems.
1) We are responsible adults. Which means we have to think before we leap.
2) The Canadian government has specific requirements for a permanent alien residency. Guess what folks, at 50+ I'm not hight on their list of desireables. I'm much older than they want.

I am working on it though.

It is a Fairy Tale Come True


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