Repose

Do you remember that Thanksgiving you got the flu? So many years ago now, you still had another semester of college yet. We listened to calls from our parents saying we miss you both and wish you could be with everyone. How sorry they felt we would be alone.

We dined on some insignificant scraps - I'm not even sure you ate. The gas log fireplace flipped on, pretending to rage in its cheap, pathetic way that we still loved the entire winter. And I remember you resting on the sofa, congested, lethargic, placing your head on a pillow in my lap, a blanket cocooning us together. I read, the TV tirelessly flashing images with its volume off so we could listen to the stereo. We always had so many things going at once back then. And you fell asleep about the time I wanted to get up for a drink of water.

So I sat & played with your soft hair. Why was it always so soft like corn silk? Things were tumultuous in our relationship those days as we struggled to figure things out. And I remember looking at you for a long time. You seemed so peaceful and relaxed, no arguments, no discussions. And I remember letting out a big sigh, letting go, and thinking there was nowhere else I'd rather be.