Last time with you

I found it funny that we both needed the bed to be made before we left our perch on the hill. That we showered two or three times a day. That you slept on top of the blankets with me underneath them all.

We both jumped when the air freshener would puff out that strange vanilla and lemon smoke. We had to have the window open to fall asleep, the colder the better, the easier to cuddle up next to one another (although remember, you slept ON the cover and not under).

I popped popcorn and then proceeded to eat the whole bag, once piece at a time in a constant train of butter and salt. You asked, too late I might add, for some of what I had made; there was nothing but kernels and you looked at me in amazement.

The dinner you made melted in my mouth, the kitchen our playground; and you were so kind to indulge my desire to not sit in front of the TV while we ate it.

We drove up and down the state, my stitches pulling internally, our tempers flaring because we both had to pee all the time. We kept buying coffees and hot chocolates. We had to pay to get to Walden’s Pond, so we said ‘hell no’. Orchard House sat before me like a dream and as you smoked a cigarette we gave a bumblebee sugar water to help her fly again. She sat there for ages, sipping it slowly. I peeked and peaked at her fuzzy torso and finally we drove away and that is what I remember most about Concord.

I regret not walking in the woods, on the paths created out of family habit and covered in fallen twigs and stone walls-next time, I think.

And I regret yelling at you so severely that when you tried to hug me I put my hands up ready to punch you. What hardened me so sorely that I couldn’t even take love when I surly was out of my mind with needing it?

I’d re-do that part over. But not the part where we slept deeply, and woke early only to love one another.

I would have loved you more.

I would have stayed in bed all day.

I would have gladly ripped the stitches if it meant having all of you.

I’d like to have all of you. Can we try again soon, please?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.