I wake up and I don't know what surprises me more- the clock or the calendar. It is now October
, which means that summer is over. That makes two. Two summers without you and can feel time putting dust over my bruises. It is lessening my pain, but I resist it. I am annoyed that the time is passing and creating the distance between where I am and where we were. Then
The beachhouse. The drive-in
movies. The Escort
from hell. (Windows fogged and handles that would not roll down). Greasy onion rings that you held on eight fingers- Go ahead, count!"
But it fades, like the ten minutes I just put on snooze- it does not pause, like my forgetful VCR. It is the opposite of that- it races ahead- ahead of me, and my memories and how I want things to be, how I want them to stay.
More time, another 6 minutes spent in bed staring at red numerals, clicking away another morning I should be working, or studying or giving the appearance of life.
I am going to have a hard time, I guess, explaining this next year- where this time went, how to account for the absence of life- this absence of things . I don't know what I have been doing with myself, other than waiting for the memory of you to slide away and get lost with the time I have been shredding. We lose weeks like buttons, like pencils. We have more than enough, until someone calls and we search frantically to take a message-
It was right here!
We have more than enough, until we have none and then we have nothing. All gone.