October 12, 2011


I love the unspoken. But sometimes I wonder if I miss something in my own translation. We have all done it... and it has left me feeling cold and a little like standing in cold water that causes your ankles to ache.

Blame it on my Virgo'ness. Always thinking even when I am not thinking. Always working through every word, every syllable. Calculating the weight of the words you did say, like stones in my palm. Some are heavy and I worry about tossing them aside lightly. Some are light and easy to mistake as skipping stones. How do I know which ones I should keep and hold next to my heart? I always look for the green ones. The ones that shimmer in the sunlight. But now, I wonder.

Am I wrong?

I have felt a little hollow these days. It is the shift in weather and the constant rain. I am already tired of fall and crave spring and it's October. In a life where I am surrounded by voices and perspective, there is really only one that keeps me coming home. And this weekend we were distracted by turkeys and miniature pumpkins and making sure the gravy was not lumpy. And here I am, feeling alone without him.

Sometimes when I feel like this I think its Tennessee calling. But C is off at Disney with his children and there is no possible way he could be sending me those messages. And so... I am just me again. My heart a stone I hold in my palm, deciding if it needs to be skipped out over the calm water.

It's like a room after the party is over. Glasses abandoned wearing their lipstick kisses and fingerprints. The dirty dishes and the pillows thrown all over the floor. Quiet. Still. Maybe there is a slow song on the stereo and your limbs are heavy with sleep. But yet, you can't sleep with the throb of the conversation still lingering in the high corners. And so you sit there with the last of the wine and feel alone. I like how that alone feels. I still am holding some of it all in, the laughter and the warmth.

But now, the glasses have been washed and I am truly alone again.

We could be sad about this... but why. It's not sadness I feel so much as just empty. I am a church after the prayers have been said. Still. Heavy with pockets full of stones that I cannot translate into useful information.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

Come home and pull me in to your body so that the warmth lingers and when I wake, the stones have all washed away.