Missing you:

  • While blowing my nose.
  • While staring at a pile of dirty dishes.
  • While peeling an orange. (Actually, a minneola.)
  • While washing dishes and thinking about how my back hurts.
  • While having an alcohol inspired late night snack of kugel and white bread, cleaning up after a dinner party.
  • While looking at the moon and wondering whether it's full or not.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • While putting on my orange socks for the first time.
  • When I locked myself out of the house.
  • When I found one of your hairs in the fridge (?!?)
  • While listening to Martin Luther King.
  • While listening to "slow jams" on WERS.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • When it's time to empty the dishwasher.
  • When I want you to taste how good the soup is.
  • At night, falling asleep.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • While listening to Ralph Nader.
  • At Frogs Legs.
  • While riding my bike.
  • While eating your kimchee.
  • At Tim & Imke's.
  • In the airplane.
  • When I find the mouse party that happened while I was away.
  • While eating an entire bag of gummy bears.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • While making veggie stock.
  • In a long line at Stop & Shop, panicking because I'm afraid I left the stove on.
  • When it snows.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • When I'm worried we have ice dams.
  • When I think about all the other times you were away already in the last year and all the times you're going to be away again.
  • When I realize I haven't spoken to anyone in four days.
  • When I'm eating all of the cookies and candy and ice cream that everyone brought over.
  • When I realize I haven't watched any movies or TV at all and decide to watch a dumb movie that turns out to be a little bit scary.
  • When it's time to shovel again and it's sleeting...
  • When I heard about Robert.
  • On the 66 bus.
  • Standing in a puddle.
  • While depressed about what I'm doing with my life.
  • Eating dark chocolate.
  • While writing this.
  • While talking to you on the phone, when your voice is so squeaky.
  • Cooking kale.
  • At bedtime.
  • Cooking fish.
  • During a long walk home.
  • All day today.
  • Right now.
  • Right now too.
  • While wondering if I could drink an entire bottle of red wine.
  • While heating up my first ever frozen dinner. (This list is getting depressing.)
  • When I see how tired you look in photos.
  • First thing in the morning when I wake up.
  • At 2:07 am, while insomniacally refilling the water pitcher and noticing that the last time the water filter was changed was over a year ago. (Then wondering if I you have ever noticed and changed the water filter of your own accord in the 16.5 years !!!!!! we've been together now...) Anyway, we need water filters. And stamps, actually. (All of these thoughts, no matter how naggy and insomniacal they sound are full of love...)
  • So much a few hours after you left for TX that I had to put my E shirt on and get back in bed.
  • The morning after you left for Berlin when it suddenly got very dark outside and there was a furious flurry of snow and then it ended just as quickly about 30 minutes after it started. You would have loved it.
  • When I drove an over complicated way to the Subaru dealership in Belmont and was so rattled that I thought it was an hour later than it was and I forgot to tell them which light needed a new bulb, and then discovered on my way home that I was a 2 minute drive from Waverly Sq.
  • When I emptied the garbage in your office and it was full of gum packages.
  • At 11:11.
  • During a certain sequence of events, experienced while walking, that proceeded like this: a smell of hot glue; a smell of skunk; the sound of a small, faraway plane; the sound of dry leaves that should have departed their tree months ago, rustling; an encounter with a white lump on the sidewalk that I thought was a tiny ball of snow, but when kicked, turned out to be a cotton ball; a smell of steam from a metal kettle; a silver sedan, idling in the middle of the street, license plate #S42727 at 8:33pm.
  • When I saw (but left in place) a hair of yours on your scrubby thing in the shower.
  • After an exhaustive and fruitless search for any size nailclipper.
  • All of the sudden, in the middle of eating a popsicle.
  • While thinking about your laugh when you think something is really funny.
  • Looking at your well-used toothbrush.
  • When I came home through the back door and saw your garden shoes waiting for you on the porch.
  • When I tried to open the storm window on the front door to let in some fresh air, but couldn't because my fingers weren't strong enough.
  • Each time I open the fridge and see the refrigerated birthday gift you've left me.
  • While watering and inspecting the new growth on the blueberry bush.
  • At 1:40 am, while feeling behind on everything, but like I'm doing nothing, and too immobilized by tears and the pounding of the endless waves of relentless rejection I've experienced this year to just go to bed as know I should, drinking your whiskey and wondering whether I really miss you, or just the vicarious sensation of things happening which is here when you're here, and not here when you're not. Am I missing you? Or just the belief that there are Facebook posts that urgently need to be posted, and band dynamics that urgently need to be resolved, and moms that urgently need to be taken to eye appointments, instead of just more job and grant applications that could be searched for and written, but will probably be rejected once they are, and articles that could be pitched but even if accepted, will involve working at below minimum wage for payment in 3-6 months, at the expense of spending time applying for jobs that might be able to get me out of debt, if I could actually get them, but secretly knowing that no one gets jobs or art opportunities this way--that they get them through a kind of networking I don't know how to do. But then still missing you, even while finally knowing that if you were here it would just be worse because it would seem ungrateful of me to feel sorry for my lack of ability to convince anyone that I have enough potential value as contributor to their endeavors or missions to be invited to participate in them as an employee or underwritten producer of things when I have such a comfortable roof over my head and a partner and my basic health. (I can say all of this here because of the unlikeliness of your ever actually reading it....)
  • In the shower, while shaving my legs, and thinking about how, all of the last entry on this list not withstanding, I am regularly and genuinely flooded with gratefulness for you, our home, our strong shower, and the very kind friends I have all around me.
  • At about 2:50pm on June 8th.
  • Almost exactly 24 hours later. Missing you the worst these last 24 hours, not sure why. Maybe all of the suicide. I feel lonely, but not interested in being around anyone but you. So, lonely for you. I'm going to make some coffee for the first time since you left. I don't know why I feel like that's the answer, but I've decided it's what will help.