I woke up remembering…curtains blowing wildly and sliding doors rattling. The Cape Doctor is out to play and there, on the 13th floor, it sounds terrifying. I`m lying in his bed. In a tangle of bedding, arms and limbs. Its beautiful really, the most beautiful thing I had experienced at that time. I found myself easily napping in his arms and even when he leaves to the tune of a slamming door, I barely wake up, but I’m faintly aware that I’m smiling. Incoherently kissing him goodbye to waste away the morning in his bed watching old movies and the history channel.
When I do wake up, I find I like the loneliness. The solitude, the billowing curtains and the knowledge that he’ll be home with fresh poppy seed bagels.
My life has changed so much in the past 4 years and I was faintly shocked that the emotion of remembering so vividly how I felt at that time, did not sweep me up in emotion. emotions of bitterness, regret or longing… I only felt nostalgia. Just a brief stirring for those moments that was. And I felt no regret. no bitterness. no longing
But a strong craving for a poppy seed bagel.
My, how I’ve grown.
*and, herewith, concludes 4 days of melancholy and crap.