Love

You know what's crazy? Whenever I hear a car pull up outside there's this tiny little part of me that hopes it's him. He doesn't even own a car but I've always wanted that magic movie moment. I wanted to be enough for someone to fight for.

It's the sound of tires on wet concrete. There's something about that sound that just makes me feel all...feely.

I suppose if I were going to shrink myself and analyze it, I could probably trace it back to the sound of my dad coming home. His giant Cadillac roaring up the alley meant that my mom would smile soon. How they loved each other.

So many times I've been wrong. I thought I was in love so many times. I don't feel bad about it. Maybe a little foolish, but I remember advice my grandmother gave me. She told me I loved as much as I could at the time. Love, or what love means to me, has changed for me over the years-as I grow. Definitely don't feel love the same way I did at 15. Wow. That was over 20 years ago....

And I can tell you about all of them.

But I think I want to keep that for me just now. The last one is still too fresh. I miss him still and it's a challenge not to call him.

But today the universe will not allow it and that's a good thing. I skipped a phone payment and can't call out. I don't even know what I would say.

I want him to fight for me.

But he won't.

And it's not him in the car out front. He doesn't even have a car.

Fuck I hate this. The back and forth sad feels with confident new feels and the knowing what I did was right for me and hating that I had to do it and missing his touch and missing....well....the little things I suppose. The little things that looking back, really were small. And when I start to feel all of those little things add up and my heart starts getting all squishy and I think that maybe it's all worth it...I remember.

"Don't smother me."
Pushing me over so he could be comfortable in bed.
"Where's the gravy?" on Thanksgiving when he'd ignored me all day.
"Well if I shit in a box and gave it to you, would you like that?"
Never saying thank you. For anything.
Long angry rants about exes.
Texting at dinner
Telling me he didn't want to kiss me because he'd want to have sex and he wasn't in the mood.
"You need to get over it and get some counseling. She's been dead for how long?"
Telling me to be quiet so his ex wouldn't hear me when she called.
Never doing things I wanted to do because he'd 'already done them with <insert ex girlfriend's name>'.
Complaining about the bus and 'those fucking people' on it, every time he came to visit.
Rude to strangers/waitresses/people on the other end of the phone


He could be so angry. So negative and...not me.

That helps me a little. To remember those things. It helps me forget

"I'm so in love with you."
Wrapping himself around me as we slept.
"Every day is Valentine's Day with you."
"You're beautiful."
Telling me he loved me when he thought I didn't hear.
Long conversations on the phone about nothing
Breakfast for dinner
Telling me he loved to kiss me, touch me, look at me
"I'll always be there for you."
Writing me a poem, a song, a letter.
Introducing me to new places in the city I would never have seen without him
His sweet smile when we saw each other for the first time all week


I suppose it won't always be like this. And in truth, each day gets a little better. But I keep wondering how he is, if he's doing ok. If he's thinking of me. I keep wondering if....

Sigh.