Saturday, April 30, 2016

Kaelah's Corner (Apr 2016):
Locomotive Breath

The process of moving in together is now almost complete, seven years after Ludwig and I became a couple. A few days ago, I left Ludwig's old place for the very last time. Being the sentimental person that I am, this was an occasion which made me very sad.

I walked through the rooms one more time, remembering all the events that took place here. One thing that comes to my mind when I think about Ludwig's place is my first visit, shortly after we had seen each other in person for the very first time. How I looked around excitedly and a bit nervously, recognizing a cane lying in one corner of the room we sat in and wondering which kinds of kinky implements Ludwig might possess other than canes and whether he would show them to me.

I also tried to find out more about who Ludwig was and remember that I was of course curious to see, for instance, which kinds of books were on his bookshelf. We talked almost the whole time during the two days I visited Ludwig and did some sightseeing as well. I was so overwhelmed that I got a stomach-ache when we ate dinner at one of Ludwig's favourite restaurants before I left on the second day. At that time, most of our conversation was about kink, since that's how we had found each other and since I was thinking about making my first spanking experience with Ludwig.

Another important memory is of the day when we fell asleep together in one bed for the very first time. We hadn't planned for that to happen. At that time we were still just friends and Ludwig had put up a separate sleeping place for me. But then we went to sleep together in his bed, cuddled around each other.

I also remember the uncountable times I arrived for a weekend together either by car or by train, in which case Ludwig always came to the station to welcome me. The many days we were having breakfast and supper together, sitting at the dining table, talking about kink and vanilla topics, getting to know each other better and better. Coming to Ludwig always meant a few days off for me, a time for walks, little excursions, evenings with friends and relaxation.

Of course there were difficult times, too. I also remember the afternoon when we were cuddling on the couch, both being very sad, because we talked about splitting up and it wasn't clear whether I would ever return after leaving at the end of the weekend. Later, Ludwig quickly packed away the extra sheets on the bed before I had even left because, as he told me, he wouldn't be able to stand the sight of them after I was gone, not knowing whether I would ever come back to use them again.

And then there were our first sexual and kinky experiences together, some of which we shared in this place as well. Some were immortalised on photo and of course we have vanilla pictures and videos of the place, too. But still it makes me sad to know that I won't be able to simply walk in there anymore and relive some of the memories from the beginning of our relationship.

On the day I left, the weather was warm and the sun shining brightly. Ludwig and I went for a last walk along one of the routes we had walked so often over the years. One of the cats from the neighbourhood came over to say farewell. And then it was time for me to leave.

I think it was good that I was travelling by train this time. Because otherwise I might a) not have been able to force myself to leave (having had to catch a certain train made it easier), b) have been a danger to others driving a car, given how tearful I was when I left and c) have cried even more driving through the town for the very last time, slowly but steadily getting further and further away from the place I called my second home for seven years.

Ludwig brought me to the train station and we said goodbye. He was staying behind to settle a few more things before the place would be handed over to its next inhabitant. I went to our new place alone, of course knowing that Ludwig would follow me, soon.

You know, the strange thing is, that of course rationally everything is fine. Ludwig and I will live together, not having to travel between his place and my place anymore, but calling our new place our common home. We are married. And we look forward to a new time in life with great new opportunities and adventures lying ahead of us. We even managed to have our closest family members nearby at our new place!

But still I was sad when I gazed at my train ticket which looked like so many I had bought before, showing the destination that had always meant visiting Ludwig and sharing a few days off with him. It reminded me of the song Locomotive Breath by Jethro Tull, one of my favourite bands. I thought about the question what home means and about origin and roots. And I wrote this post on the train, tearing up more than once, using this as a way to process what was going on.

One thing is certain, life constantly changes and there is no way to stop or slow down the train. What we can do, though, is see the chances and opportunities which are awaiting us at every station along the way. And keeping the happy memories from the past in our hearts.

I know we will come back a lot for holiday weekends to visit friends, enjoy relaxing walks and go for little excursions. We might even be more mindful knowing that we won't be there every other weekend. And we will build us a new home together, OUR little home.
In any case, it's not like everything from our old life is gone now. Many of our books, some of the furniture and of course the kinky implements have moved with us. I think we should be able to feel at home like that.


Simon said...

What a lovely piece, hope you both find happiness in your new home.

Downunder Don said...

They say that home is where the heart is and I am sure that your heart will soon settle with Ludwig in your new home.
I love Jethro Tull; how could you not!

Svetlana said...

The feeling you describe is probably familiar to many, but few can describe it in such a personal and touching way. It's surprising how deeply we can be affected by such situations. It's like saying farewell to something tangible gives us an excuse to feel a deep sense of loss about all those moments full of life that have turned into "the past" long before. It's probably important to acknowledge that sadness now and then, but not to indulge it for too long, or else we fail to embrace the challenges and joys of our present life.

Anonymous said...

It's wonderful that the two of you have shared the beginning of of your your relationship with us. And moving into a new place together is a great way to start the next chapter - Good luck!
- Eric

James M said...

You explained why another change in your life made you "very sad".

Firstly, belated congratulations on your recent marriage, but I'd like to comment on a couple of aspects of your post which are so much like my own experience. Times change, people change and, every so often, we realise with regret that something good has gone forever, can never be done again, and all that remains of it are happy memories.

I too used to make a train journey to visit a kinky friend. She is Dutch by birth, has red hair, and has commented on your blog. At least once you have used an image in which she appears (copyright Girls Boarding School) but I can't track down the post concerned.

In her student days, even after retiring from making spanking movies, she offered "private sessions". I would make trips by rail from the South-East of England to the North-West to spend a switchy two hours in her company, and most of my day would be taken up by the travel.

She got her degree with first-class Honours, and is using that qualification in her professional life. So the pro-spankee phase of her life is over, and I no longer make that train journey.

Is that a reason to be sad? Well yes, in one way. But I still have her movies, including one made just for me by a well-known "ethical, fair-trade, feminist" producer.

You named your post "Locomotive Breath" for reasons which became apparent. If I was to give my comment a title, perhaps it should be "Living in the Past". I have seen "Jethro Tull" live more than any other band, not because they are my personal favourite, but because I have a friend who is definitely their number one fan.

Memories are precious. It is your memories, more than anything, which make you who you are. A brief science-fictional digression ...

Suppose that, tomorrow morning, you wake up in a strange bed. And you look in a mirror, but the face you see is not your own! Let's suppose that the face you see is that of Leia-Ann Woods. "What has happened?" you might exclaim, perhaps in German. "I'm not Leia-Ann Woods - I'm Kaelah."

That isn't likely to happen. But it makes the point that Kaelah's memories are what makes someone disposed to call herself Kaelah. If you ever lose those memories, whether suddenly by reason of some head injury, or gradually because of dementia, would the person called Kaelah still exist? If there were some residual memories, maybe your body might still answer to the name Kaelah.

Perhaps this is getting a bit creepy. It's natural to feel a bit sad when you must leave good things behind you forever. The sadness will pass. But cherish the memory.

James M

Kaelah said...

@ Simon:
Thank you, I am sure we will. It's been just a few weeks now and it already feels totally normal.

@ Downunder Don:
I think Ludwig and I have both already almost settled in. I love Jethro Tull, too!

@ Svetlana:
I completely agree with you. I think it is important to acknowledge and accept the feelings of sadness when something positive has come to an end. But it is also important not to live in the past and instead enjoy the present life which always holds new opportunities.

@ Eric:
It's a new chapter indeed. Thank you!

@ James M:
Thank you for having shared your thoughts on the subject! I think I know whom you are talking about! And don't worry, it's not like I am permanently living in the past, being sad about the things which have changed. My post was written directly on the train journey after having visited Ludwig's former home for the very last time. As I already wrote in my reply to Svetlana, I think it is important to acknowledge and accept feelings of sadness when things we enjoyed have come to an end. In my opinion going through those feelings enables us to say goodbye and let go. Then we can look back gratefully on the great times we had, as you have described it so wonderfully, without forgetting that while those events from the past have shaped who we are today, the only time we can live in is the here and now.

Stan/E. said...

Dear Kaelah, I just discover your recent wedding.and be sure I.m so happy about it. Best from France to both of you...

Rich Person said...

It's encouraging to know that you've each found someone so special. It's bottom-warming, er, I mean heart-warming, to hear your story! Good luck to you both.

Kaelah said...

@ Stan/E.:
Thank you very much for your kind wishes!

@ Rich Person:
Thanks a lot for your heart-warming comment! :-)