It's about that time again. Yes, we're a week and one day into my separation from Jesse, and no, the stagnant heated arms of the obliterating humidity aren't replacing Jesse's as I fall asleep. It happens this way. There's much to do, but my mind wanders like it sees a bright, shiny object to the west, and that would be my husband. So I drift into silences sometimes, staring out a window like I'm in a Sofia Coppola movie - pensive muteness, great soundtrack - and I think about him. We'll be together soon, but it's kind of one of those recurring and familiar feelings when he's gone away. It's not horrible, but I find myself sighing a lot.
The swell part is that he's there when I reach out for him - not physically, of course, but somewhere there. Invisible lines stretching until our voices or words connect. He's always there.
god, girl. amen...
ReplyDeletei forget how much i miss until they are gone again and i miss. it aches. sometimes just a twinge, sometimes horribly.
beautiful post. <3
Lindsay - I knew you'd understand, lady. :) xo
ReplyDelete"The swell part is that he's there when I reach out for him - not physically, of course, but somewhere there. Invisible lines stretching until our voices or words connect. He's always there."
ReplyDeletethat's pretty damn beautifully written lady.
Alexa - thank you!
ReplyDeleteThis is the most gorgeous post I've read in a long time. It reminded me of one of my favorite poems, by W.S. Merwin, "Separation" which says: "Your absence has gone through me/Like thread through a needle/Everything I do is stitched with its color."
ReplyDeleteI like it when blogs make me think of poems.
Gorgeous! Hang in there.
Amy - that sounds like a beautiful poem, I'll have to read it in its entirety now! Thank you very much!
ReplyDeleteSo sweet! He's in my neck of the woods! By the way, I went back to my normal blog, in case you were interested :)
ReplyDeleteTake care!
Erica
Erica - good to know! Will definitely update my reader! :)
ReplyDelete