Every Other April

 

 

 

Today, I think about you, miss you, want you, love you. That’s not out of the ordinary, but the thoughts are profoundly different. Starker. A world peeled naked in remembering; even during the act, everything trembles. I remember every word, no matter how small. Every look. Every touch. Every way you made me smile, dream, and live. It's still fresh in my memory, even if the memory’s aged.

Today, I think about you, just like every other April. I feel the same trepidation, the same excitement, the same dreaming sense of possibility. The only difference is that today the storms are waging a noisy war. The world seems to be rebelling, as everything comes together in a crash of lightening and fear. I can relate, and certainly to more than just the trembling.

Back then, it was a pretty prism summer day. All blue skies and sun, but just windy enough for a jacket. You helped me put mine on, and we went for a walk. It was such a simple thing. It was such a complicated culmination. That day, everything changed. That day, we ended what we were and became something else.

And I’ve never been the same since. I wonder if either of us will ever recover.