Oh that John Denver...

I have a severe allergy to all-things airport related.

As in an overactive tear ducts, inaudible and incomprehensible speech patterns, heavy breathing, excess sniffles, abnormal red splotchies on my cheeks sort of allergy.

Which is probably why when I googled the lyrics to "Leaving on a Jet Plane" I nearly started crying at my desk. It's a miracle I can drive from my YMCA near the airport back to my apartment without breaking down everyday.

So it's no surprise that come 5 a.m. Monday morning, watching Seth pack up his bags, the waterworks were flowing. Freely. As in could not be controlled, I'm not even going to attempt to hide my ugly cry, it's just all coming out, cause the more I try to hold it in, the uglier it gets.

I had warned him that I might cry. But I failed to mention how much I might cry. We'd warned each other that it might be hard to say goodbye. But there was no way to anticipate that it was going to be as hard as it was.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment that Seth and I knew that there was something between us. Not something as in friendship or pen pals or even just boyfriend/girlfriend-- but something. It's not the sort of thing that you can put into words. You just know. And you know it's something you don't want to be apart from.

I don't know what Seth did once I left him in the security line at the airport, aside from remove his shoes and all change from his pocket of course. What did I do? Made the scrunchy, "Of course I'm not crying what the heck are you talking about?" face until I was safely in the driver's seat of the Not so happy Honda.

And then promptly proceeded to weep.