He decided to live his life. I decided to halt my life. He went to Peru and I followed. Whether it was the right thing to do or not, we will never know. The point is, we are here, in South America(at the point of writing, we're located in Santa Cruz, Bolivia), living and halting our lives together.
Our first stop was L.A. I traced his steps from airport to airport, all 5 of them. First, CKS airport, LAX, El Salvador, Lima and then Cusco. It took me(and him on separate occasions) two days to get to where he was and it took him a month to get me to where he was. I suppose this is what relationship is all about. He goes, I follow.
Peru went through my mind and head like a blur. I didn't go to Macchu Picchu by choice. I didn't go on any of the hikes or the treks. I knew that I wouldn't survive very long without showering, well, that's not quite true. I just didn't want to climb up a mountain that has no particular interest to me. Call it how you want, that was my decision.
The only thing that I took with me was my alpaca sweater and scarf. Those will last a life time and as for the indignant payments of tourists and other unpleasant events are being forgotten with every second that passes by.
What have I done in Peru exactly? I have gotten to know my man better than I thought I would. I have observed evident changes in his mannerism. The quiet man that goes along with everything, says alright to everyone has finally formed opinion or decided to share them with me. I hope to hear more of how/where/what/when and who.
That's why I am standing at the crossroad of the Point of Return. Soon, a ticket will be issued in my name whether to Brazil or back to L.A. there is no way of telling just yet.