once upon a time, not too long ago, i used to wake from a deep sleep and know that someone was reaching out to me. lately, i’ve been waking from a deep sleep and just feeling a dull, throbbing ache.
sitting here feeling it now. the tears come because i know what it is. and because i know his pride won’t let him do anything other than this.
my friends ask me constantly, ‘you’re not talking to him again, are you?’ no. i’m not. they give me that doubtful look because they know ‘how i am’ and they know about my idealism and they know about my stubbornness and they know i’d bleed myself out all over again.
they know all the things he never did. and they worry for me. because they know, they check up on me. make sure i’m still here. silly, really. but they care.
the kittens come running into the room. they are by my feet now. both of them. purring. i suppose they know, too. i find i’m glad they can’t talk.
my daughter called today. she asked me the same damn thing. i cannot decide if they are really that worried or just think i’m that weak.
but, to answer the question, no, i’m not. i’m just sitting here, sleepless at the time when we used to be closest, feeling.
after all, conversation takes two.