It's not a secret this change of perspective has riddled our life with times of uncertainty, and while I'm sure my husband doesn't enjoy my honesty I don't know any other way to be, yet alone write.
So when the fight is over, and the silence floods our home, everything and everyone is still, my thoughts are exempt from this scenario of course...
I find myself wondering.
If shit hit the fan, and he couldn't stomach my crazy anymore...
What would I miss the most?
I'd miss the way our room smelled.
Maple syrup.
I'd miss the damp pillow next to mine.
I'd miss the way he'd give it to me straight. No soft edges. Truth. Hard.
I'd miss my best friend. Brittney spears song lyrics. Road trips to Redmond. A forgiving laugh.
His sixth sense of when to bounce the fuck out.
The way he talks in his sleep, yells. The way he's never remembered his dreams.
Asleep and awake.
The way he grabs me, and pulls me close. As if to breathe me in.
I'd miss his interruptions while I'm in deep thought. Over shit that makes me roll my eyes and sigh. So polar opposite.
Yet it seems we fit.
I'd miss everything about him.
From the way he smells in the morning-syrup, and before bed-syrup, to his midday smell of burning pine.
My lumberjack.
I'd miss the way he pays no mind to my glamorous Walgreens run, the heavy sigh let out when I announce my intent to go tanning.
The declaration that he can't change no matter how much I have, and the frustration filling those words weighted in fear.
I'd miss the tear filled eyes.
The realization that we are on different paths.
I'd miss the dedication. The will to see it through. To watch our children grow. To find a way. To love.
I'd miss everything, but most of all I'd just miss him.
Oh man, that's a tear jerker! :) luv luv your writing, thanks for sharing, your beautiful
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