Posts Tagged ‘missing you’

One Week Later

August 16, 2018

There is a buttery cowslip of a moon in the sky floating over the beach.

I looked at it.

I thought of you.

“You will always have the moon,” you told me a week ago as we lay together our last time.

Maybe not our last time.

But for this time, this chapter, this experience, it was the last time.

Whatever comes next is new and unknown and I do not know when we will meet again.

But I will always have the moon.

So too.

Conversely.

Shall you.

I looked up at the curl of cream yellow in the darkened sky.

My heart ached in my chest.

I wished you well.

I wished you  love.

I wished for you to be kind to yourself.

It was not the first time today that I thought of you.

I thought of you so often.

How could I not?

It’s been a week.

And like I said.

Wednesdays, well, lucky for me, they will always be yours.

So many things are yours.

That damn car wash on Lincoln Ave at 19th.

The one we made out in like hormone fueled teenagers.

I don’t know that I have ever, ever, ever had such an intense make out session.

I drive past that damn car wash all the time.

And.

Thoughts of you.

Or the park on the hill where we made out sitting on a bench overlooking the city.

Yeah.

That one.

The one I drive past every morning on my way to work.

You are everywhere.

You are in the avocado tree in the back yard that overhangs the porch at work.

The one the two nesting crows like to fly in and out of.

They are young.

They have not been there long, but I noticed.

You and I have an affinity for some things dark.

Crows being one.

I noticed when the young pair started flying through the yard.

They have a nest in the tree to the left of the house.

Crows mate for life.

And I think of you.

You the one I want to be mated to for life.

You who are gone now.

Far away.

And yet.

Ever present in my body, the ache in my chest, the tears pulling at my eyes.

Tonight, driving home.

You again.

A surprising gasp of pain when I saw the sunlight reflecting on the ocean water.

There was something to the juxtaposition of telephone poles and wires crisscrossed over the sea in the background and the glitter of light bouncing back towards my eyes.

The beauty of it struck me and it was all you.

All about you.

All in my heart and my soul and I almost had to pull over and sob in my car.

But I drove on.

To what I knew might be the worst.

The early evening sun setting in the back door windows of my room.

The light slanting in across my bed.

The bed that you last lay in a week ago today.

I miss you.

Your smell.

Your laugh.

The way you look at me.

The text messages and phone calls and the poetry of my name in your mouth.

All the silly sweet endearing nicknames you had for me.

I sat quietly in a five-minute meditation tonight, in a room you and I have sat together in so many times, so many Wednesdays, for this past year and change.

Sat in the dark, with my eyes closed.

Thought of you, far away, in another time zone, most likely in bed.

I imagined curling up next to you and holding you and smelling you.

The other night.

I cried out.

My duvet cover smelled of you.

How?

How!?

I washed everything.

Nothing should smell like you.

And yet.

It did.

And I cried into my pillow and looked out between the bamboo slats in the window shade and thought about when the time will come that the moon will be full and shine through and wake me up.

Insistent that I think of you in the dead of night, pulled from dreams by the bright shine pouring into the window.

You were the bright shine pouring into my life.

I miss you bunny.

I miss you.

So.

Damn.

Much.

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I Watched A Murder

January 27, 2018

Of crows today.

Swooping.

Flying.

Diving into the wind and the updrafts.

They swirled over Noe Valley.

Then swooped in a big circle, all of a flock, towards Bernal Heights.

I watched mesmerized by them, as they flew out past the avocado tree.

I thought of you.

I think of you often.

I think of you always.

When am I not thinking of you?

Your face.

Your smile.

God your smile.

What you do to my heart when you smile.

With love in your eyes, with longing.

I could throw myself on the altar of that smile and abandon myself there forever.

The crows though.

Playful.

Graceful and black silhouetted against the blue and the grey white clouds.

How they come from nowhere, swirl around each other and dissolve away again.

I think of a tattoo I want.

Not the one I will get on the morrow.

My blue heart.

My blue valentine.

My broken open tender-hearted, open throated gasp of pain.

I expect it will hurt.

And perhaps.

Oh.

Perhaps.

I welcome the pain.

I want it centered on my breast-plate.

I want to ameliorate the rest of the emotional pain.

I want to sear it out and render it gone.

Although.

Well, I know that it will not be gone.

Only blanketed, momentarily in the sing-song of physical pain.

Which will melt away again.

Leaving me once more in this boat, trying to row my way to shore.

Trying to find my way without you.

How do I find my way without you?

I am so lost.

I need the moon in the sky.

Blue moon this month.

Two full moons in the month.

It began with the Wolf Moon.

And will end with a blue moon.

Blue heart.

Sad face.

Sad eyes.

I will look at that moon and think of you

Tears wash down my face even imagining it.

It will wake me in the night, the light through the back door.

And remind me of all the times the light fell through the back door.

Slanting and shifting onto my bed to illuminate you.

The light.

It loves your face.

And I see you there.

On my bed.

Lit and smiling and I just dissolve into unresolved longing.

Oh my love.

My dearest, sweetest, love.

I miss you so much.

 

When love is real you don’t have to show it
When it is true than everyone will know
‘Cause they’ll be no one but you and me, you
You and me
Nobody baby but you and me (hey hey hey hey oh oh oh oh oh oh)
You and me
You and me
Nobody baby but you and me
You, you
You, you
You, you
You, you
You and me, baby

The Moon In The Avocado Tree

December 2, 2017

Reminds me of you.

I sit.

Reflect.

Stare.

Dream.

The sky.

I watch the stars and think of little cable cars.

A movie scene.

Holding your hand.

Climbing the hills of the city.

Trying to get closer to the sky.

Trying to be closer to you.

So.

I wait for you.

Here.

While you are there.

So far away.

My eyes prickle with tears that do not fall.

My heart aches with yearning, longing, wistful wanting.

To hear your voice in my ear on the phone.

My ear aches for your breath to be there against it.

Instead of pressed to the machine carrying your voice.

Through the airways I hear you and long to wrap myself around you.

I miss you.

Oh.

I do.

So much.

Very.

Very.

Very.

Listen, can you hear it, the music, we dance slowly to.

And the afterglow of your

Last kiss on my mouth.

Which flutters awake and brushes me tender.

I need your kisses.

I need them so.

Counting down the minutes and moments until I am in your embrace again.

My face flushed with unbearable heat when I was cold today.

Thinking of you.

Then hearing your voice, husky and warm filled with its own kind of longing.

I still shudder thinking of how we came together.

That we are still together.

That I get to be with you, just not as soon as I want to be, right now.

Soon  you say.

Though.

It.

Is.

Not.

Soon enough.

Never soon enough.

Until you are here and I am smashed with your love.

And when I think of us.

I am in awe.

That this all came about.

You and I.

Some divine design.

Sacred and profound.

Lustful and chemical.

Chimerical.

I could never have imagined this.

Us.

Together.

Though apart.

For the moment.

Thus.

I swear, with all the softness of a dreamy mouth, to keep you close.

Though you are afar.

You are right here.

Ensconced.

In my heart.

At least this is what I tell myself.

While I watch the moon.

Drifting through the avocado tree.

 

 

 

Writing You Love Letters

October 3, 2017

While you sleep.

The tears on my face still drying.

There are things I should do and things I could do.

But all I want.

All I ever want.

Is to be with you.

I want nothing more than to hold you close.

I die a little inside when I think about you being alone.

I don’t want you to be alone, I want you to be seen and held and strong and true.

I want you to know how much, how very much, I love you.

I know you say you know.

I know you do.

I know you know I adore you.

And I cannot stop saying the words.

Like the Raven in that one poem from long ago.

On a dark and dreary night who cannot stop repeating itself.

I repeat and repeat.

And it’s just true.

I can’t stop.

My heart fills with the music you send me.

You a poetry font of expression and longing and joy.

All wrapped up in a 90s love ballad.

You send me love letters in music.

It is the best.

It is beyond the best.

It is you tender and sweet and true.

Oh baby.

I miss you.

I do.

Once upon a time when I was a younger woman, a girl really.

Full of longing and unspoken need.

I would dream of someone like you.

Who would romance me with music.

Who would seduce me with song.

I would dance around my room alone and dream about you.

There are times I feel that I have dreamt you into being.

This revery that I am afraid to wake from.

A beauty so keen.

You have changed me.

I am in the presence of a dream.

I am smote.

You are my undoing.

And.

My doing.

You are my everything.

My dream made real.

My 90s love ballad come true.

 

Gearing Up

January 7, 2017

For the weekend.

I got stuff to do people.

Places to go.

French friends to reconnect with.

Plans to make.

Plans that may be changing.

I may postpone my trip to Paris in May, my friend won’t be going back the time we had originally made plans on being there together, she’s made some suggestions and we are going to get together tomorrow in the afternoon and hash it out.

Oh.

I’m still going.

There is absolutely no doubt about that.

Just that the timing may be different, more toward late summer or fall.

The entire point of the trip was for us to spend time together, she’s from Paris and has spoken often and passionately about a Paris I have had glimpses of but not quite gotten to see.

She wants to show me and I am all in.

We just have to push it back a little bit.

Once we have figured that out I will look at making my other travel plans, Puerto Rico.

I may take a few days and go there in May, swap out the timing on the two trips.

There will be travel.

And tomorrow there will be much get about on the train.

I have parked my scooter and covered her up.

It’s going to rain.

And it’s going to rain a fucking lot.

For over a week.

Oh well.

Before the train I will be going to yoga, I haven’t been all week trying to navigate my new schedule with the new job, but I signed up for the 9 a.m. class tomorrow and I will squeeze in a class on Sunday as well and perhaps one on Thursday, help me get mellowed out before I have my first weekend of classes.

Yup.

That’s next weekend.

I got my second text-book in the mail today.

The stack of notebooks and text books begins to grow once again.

So this weekend will be getting as much stuff as I can done before next weekend’s first classes.

I will do the deal at Tart to Tart with my person tomorrow at noon.

Then a manicure.

Then lunch with my friend.

I’ll probably find a cafe to hole up in for a few hours and crank out some reading.

I’m not going to bother coming home after I do the deal and meet my friend for lunch.

I’m gong to be heading over to the East Bay to a speaking engagement and I figure once I’m out, I’ll be out all day and just get it all in.

Sunday I’m having a lady over to do some work and then I’ll cook for the week and work on my practicum applications.

Because that shit has to get done.

And after next weekend I will be in the doing homework mode.

I mean.

Fuck.

I already am.

I have reading assigned for all my classes.

But after next weekend’s round of classes I will also have the papers and the projects that inevitably follow a weekend of classes and I have to get my practicum stuff together.

So yeah.

I’m almost, not quite, but almost, grateful for the rainy days.

I will not be out running amok.

Not that I tend to anyway when I’m getting prepared for the school weekend.

But you know.

Easier to sit still when it’s rainy and cold.

I do wish that it passes quickly and that it clears by the weekend so that I can ride my scooter to school or even to a day or two of work.

It is just so much faster than the trains.

I finally figured out the fastest way to work today.

I found the magic through streets that get me from Diamond Heights to my spot in Glen Park.

It’s a lot of hills and it’s a little nerve-wracking, but I’m getting used to the commute and it is intriguing to be in a part of the city that I haven’t had much experience with.

It’s funny how a little change in my work location opens up an entirely new part of the city and all the things that I had no clue where there are there.

It’s fun to discover stuff.

And the new job continues to be quite lovely.

I am really going to like it, I am liking it more and more every day.

Even though today was a little hard.

It wasn’t hard because of my current job, it was hard because of my previous job.

I saw the boys today.

Oh, hello tears.

I am super grateful I didn’t cry at the school, but it took some enormous draw of strength to not do so.

I saw the little guy first when I went to pick up my current charges from school.

He was out running around, he and the little girl in the family are in the same class and I figured I would see him, but I had no idea how hard it would be.

Which, you know, is a gift, when someone affects me like that, when I have that kind of depth of feeling, I don’t have to run from it, it’s a gift, it means he meant something to me.

He still does.

He means so much.

I said his name.

He looked at me, and for a moment he didn’t recognize me.

Then.

“CARMEN!”

He flew across the playground and threw himself in my arms (pausing to cry, I’ll be with you in just a moment) and hugged me so hard.

So very hard.

“I missed you,” he said and shuddered and then clung to me even harder, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too sweet guy,” I said and squeezed him back.

I set him gently down and asked how his Christmas was and his first week back at school and then I took a few pictures of him with my little girl charge and there was another hug and then he raced off to the playground and that was that.

I hugged my new charge and we got her back pack and bag of stuff to take home and signed her out.

I saw the old mom.

We said “hi,” and she said, “did you see?”

I did.

I nodded.

She told me his older brother was coming out and very much wanted to see me as well.

Ugh.

Slight pause to clean off my glasses.

Tear splatters.

I girded myself for the emotions and took my little girl by her hand and asked her about her day and she showed me the drawing she had drawn for me and then I looked up.

And.

Oh.

God.

His face.

All the emotions dancing across his face.

Shyness, excitement, joy, sadness, he paused and looked at me.

I smiled.

He smiled back.

Then he grinned.

Then he ran to me.

I caught him and lifted him up and hugged him and smelled his sweet neck and tried very hard, very, very, very hard, to not cry.

Saved that all for right now.

Ha.

“I missed you Carmen,” he whispered into my ear, “it’s been two weeks, it’s been too long, when are you coming back?”

“Oh bunny,” I said, and set him down, then I knelt down next to him.

“I missed you too,” I said and brushed his hair from his face and touched his soft cheek, how pale he looked, how sad and sweet and sincere.

“When are you coming back?” He asked me again.

I didn’t get a chance to say anything, the mom came and scooped him up, “we got to go ____________”

“I have to get them to the dentist,” she said, “sorry to rush off!”

“No worries, it was wonderful to see them, have a great weekend,” I said and smiled.

He looked at me, ugh, that look, then walked away with his mom.

I signed out my other charge and gave him a big hug.

“Guess what?!” I said and shook the sads out of my coat sleeves.

“What?” He asked very solemn.

“ICE CREAM,” his sister yelled, “ice cream, ice cream, ice cream, we’re going to go get ice cream.”

And we did and it was jolly fun and it helped soothe the ache in my chest to be with them and giggle and laugh and taste, them, not me, the different flavors at BiRite Creamery, and then sit and watch them devour their cones and then say, hey, let me get a coffee and guess what else, we got time for the park before we catch the train.

It was a good day.

A little sad.

A lot tender.

But a good day.

And I’m grateful for all the feelings.

“It must be hard,” my new mom said to me, when I mentioned that I saw the boys.

“For them, but also for you,” she said.

She’s an insightful person.

We get along quite well, I have to say.

“It was, but it was also good to see them,” I said, I might have been trying to gloss it over a tiny bit to keep myself together as I got my stuff to leave for the weekend.

“You must feel pretty tender, it might be harder than if you had just had a complete end with them,” she added.

“Maybe,” I said, looking at her deep blue-green sea glass eyes.

“But I’ll be ok, and I am so grateful to have made the transition to be with you,” I smiled, “thank you and please let me know how I can help next week, I’m very happy to be here.”

“Mom!” The little girl came running, “come eat dinner.”

Saved by the dinner time bell.

I got another hug from the little girl and a blown kiss from the boy and big, hearty, heart-felt thank you’s from the parents.

It was a good week.

I am glad.

My tears have dried.

And I am glad for both the expression of the emotion and that I can hold a vast amount of love and joy and emotions all at the same time.

I can love and miss the boys.

And.

I can be excited and happy for the new job.

And grateful for all of it.

All the feels.

All the things.

All the love.

Yes, love.

All the love.

It is so very, very good.

Even when it hurts.

Even then.

Seriously.


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