You Are the Obstacle Course I Avoid

You are the obstacle course I avoid,

The detour I make,

The abyss I elude.

Because it hurts so much to think of you, and to not think of you.  I haven’t figured that out yet.  You are in a place of limbo, I’m afraid.

I sit here this morning writing about the new things I am working on, projects and plans I am starting to look forward to. I am aware that change keeps rolling on regardless of what I want.

Although, each morning I wake up and you are still not here.  That has not changed.

There are times now, sometimes long, sometimes short, when it feels ‘normal.’ I have my to-do lists, my appointments and chores. My outings and pleasures. I smile, I laugh, I even mean it sometimes.

But as I go about my day, making my plans, filling out my calendar, it strikes me that missing you is trapped in my body, all the time.  Even if I’m not thinking of you, my missing you lives on:

In my clenched jaw,

In my aching shoulders,

In my cramped belly,

In my thudding head,

In my ramrod back,

In my tight throat,

In my panting breaths.

So, I take a deep, deep breath.  I stretch my arms. I shake my hips. I twist my spine.  Not to shift you out of my life, but to somehow find a way to move forward with a bit more space, a bit more ease.  There is no choice I’m afraid.  No alternate route.

In my mind, I take your arm the way I used to and whisper, “My love, will you walk with me? Will you help me ease the way?”

You look at me, the way you always did, pulling my arm in a little closer, giving me a bite of your ice cream sandwich and nod, “Of course, my dearest. Always.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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