|I remember making omelets and having to drive back to the store because we were talking so much that we forgot to buy eggs.
“Look, it’s on sale!” you said, holding up a carton of chocolate almond milk, surprised at how you could have missed such a deal. Then you smiled and shook your head as I practiced my moonwalk on the polished floors.
Every day with you felt like the Fourth of July, and I’m still surprised at how much we didn’t know each other back then. I remember you not wanting to lose your mystery and me trying to discover more of it.
Now, after all these years, I see you.
I know your colors: your never-ending battle with low blood sugar, and mosquitos, and retail prices, and being cold. I know how the weight of the blankets on our bed makes you feel secure; how holidays are an official excuse to splurge; how life and all of its responsibilities get put on hold if you’ve started a good book; and how you relinquish complete control when my hands massage your shoulders.
I will miss not having enough room in the refrigerator because you bought three gallons of discounted chocolate almond milk.
I will miss us.
- Love, me