When you showed up at my doorstep, the sun was high in the sky. Your grey eyes were bright, shining. It had been 17 months and three days since I’d seen you. You stood there for a moment waiting for the right words before you said, “Can I come in?”
We sat in the sunroom for a while, you and I, and you spoke of your travels. You worked long days remodeling houses but the job was satisfying. When you asked about my divorce, I didn’t mention the cheating scandal, instead, I said, “My Ex is in rehab. Everything fell apart so he’s trying to pick up the pieces.” Your sharp eyes seemed to run all over me then and I found myself looking away to the birdbath focusing on the red cardinal lingering there.
A sense of regret soon followed. I wanted to tell you that I was wrong, the path I chose was rocky. I wanted to tell you that I shouldn’t have let you slip away but a lump formed in my throat, and my eyes became misty so I floated into the kitchen for a fat glass of tea as I fumbled for the vodka.
We drank for a while in the cozy nook until the room seemed too warm, tight. I needed some space. I needed air.
So we walked. We walked on, down by the magnificent waterfall. A group of crows cried out, as flashes of lightning burst between the clouds above us. When the air shifted and the rain fell down-down, like teardrops. It washed all over me.
We sat in the sunroom for a while, you and I, and you spoke of your travels. You worked long days remodeling houses but the job was satisfying. When you asked about my divorce, I didn’t mention the cheating scandal, instead, I said, “My Ex is in rehab. Everything fell apart so he’s trying to pick up the pieces.” Your sharp eyes seemed to run all over me then and I found myself looking away to the birdbath focusing on the red cardinal lingering there.
A sense of regret soon followed. I wanted to tell you that I was wrong, the path I chose was rocky. I wanted to tell you that I shouldn’t have let you slip away but a lump formed in my throat, and my eyes became misty so I floated into the kitchen for a fat glass of tea as I fumbled for the vodka.
We drank for a while in the cozy nook until the room seemed too warm, tight. I needed some space. I needed air.
So we walked. We walked on, down by the magnificent waterfall. A group of crows cried out, as flashes of lightning burst between the clouds above us. When the air shifted and the rain fell down-down, like teardrops. It washed all over me.
