I write this from the bedroom, just seconds after I walked down the hallway to put myself away for the night. The ghost of you walked ahead of me tonight for the first time in months. I have gotten used to this existence alone. Only occasionally do you creep back in. Not that I don’t miss you. Oh, I do constantly. It’s just that there are fewer times now where the there is a physicality like there is tonight. Maybe it is because there is no you at the other end of the street tonight. Even though I know it isn’t true, I have always felt that if I got far enough down, I could call and you would hold me for a night.
I feel like I play games now. That I try to approximate you really being in my life again. I hold a pillow. I hold my breath. I ask God to bring you back, even though I know I should not ask for these things from Him. I should ask Him for what’s best for me, for you, for us all.
The night before we broke up I asked you would you stay here again with me before I left this house of ours. You said you would. I realize why you haven’t been able to keep that vow. I understand things were all confused. I understand that you probably really wanted to, at least on a level.
This is not our bed anymore. It is just mine. I like it that way on some level. I still do dream of waking with you beside me on a Saturday though – you sleeping late. I dream of a trip to the bookstore before you awake. Maybe a long walk before as well. Cold cuts and toasted sandwiches from a much-thought-over-before-purchased toaster oven. You like turkey, I know, with a little bit of lettuce, vinegar and spices. How does breakfast in bed sound? And a foot rub before that morning? And after? And every night, just to keep us regular? And a return to a good love? Maybe one that could last this time?