It was the last evening of the break, and it was nothing.
How I loved it, remembering now.
The walks we took back and again to the car, checking
on things we forgot, returning empty-handed to share
our mutterings with the cat and laughter over
your particular socks and your ice cream
and the way you pretended not to sleep
and the show we watched was stupid
and we kept on repeating its lines
laugh-crying over nothing and I didn’t even write
a page, only opened a file and closed it
I could feel the time closing for this and now wonder
if it’s what’s left undone in a place that sanctifies.
I will miss this, the lack of pretense
that we were anything but here
breathing in it.
I miss those kinds of evenings; I haven’t had one of those in a long while. It seems that every moment is consumed before it birthed lately.
A hauntingly powerful phrase: “every moment consumed before it’s birthed.” Thank you for this, Michael.
Thank *you* 🙂