As I bustled into the car for yet another of a thousand mundane errands that make up the hours of my days, I glanced down and saw it. Her soda can, the one she had grabbed yesterday for the drive up to the airport, that little metal can that had brushed against her lips and tongue as she and I talked, trying to stretch the moments long enough that we’d never feel them end. It was there this morning, beside me, a little silver time-traveler bridging the gap between us. It and I both had known the touch of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the way her long slender fingers possess more strength than you’d ever guess. We two shared secrets, and I wondered if it missed her, too, sitting there waiting for her to come back, to drink again. I ran my finger around the rim and tried to steal a little of that last impression, to somehow press through metal into the past to feel her lips, round and full. In the corner of my mind, I could hear her singing with me, laughing low and full as we finished the song on different notes. A smile spread across her face, filling her eyes with love as she placed a hand on mine and squeezed me, as if to say, “I love you, I’m here, we’re here, together in this moment, and that’s all that matters.”
And then I was back, alone in my car, my fingers holding tight to a bit of aluminum, and so I turned the key and started the engine…
and wondered how many others had made gods of their recycling.
One woman’s refuse is another’s treasure, hmmm? I leave things accidentally, whereas you plan entire campaigns involving love notes left in strategic locations.. I wish I were as thoughtful and intentional. I get so focused on those moments with you that I kind of forget the outside world and keep myself from thinking about the reality that I have to leave.
I love you, I love that you treasure the traces of my visit, the same way I treasure everything of I have of yours.. you’re really wonderful, I love you.
I love how focused you are on me, how much attention you give the moments we have together. Plus, let’s be honest, you’re always looking at me funny when I’m trying to be sneaky with the notes and end up looking mostly clumsy.
I treasure all of you, love, even the impressions you leave in my world when you’ve left.
O yeh I can relate. There’s a chocolate wrapper lying around from a while back…
I have a box of silly trinkets I’ve saved, not that I’m saying a chocolate wrapper is silly. Just that I know how important pieces are when you can’t have the whole thing.
I’m lucky to have the whole thing it’s just that it’s “only” once a week – I know that is plenty compared to you, but I am a die hard romantic – the chocolate wrapper will get chucked at some point (I’m a lazy housedyke) + then the usual things will make me smile — I kidnapped her toothbrush
for example
I think we can all agree that any time apart can feel like years – I’ll bet once a week isn’t nearly as much as you’d wish for. I’m slowly learning to admit to my romantic side after years of pretending it didn’t exist. Kidnapping a toothbrush seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do, but I’m curious – what did you ask for in ransom?
I put a strand of her hair in a jewelry box and another in my wallet. I would run it through my fingers and think how lucky it was to be a part of her for so long. This was besides the wrappers and random objects. Of course.
Awwwww….wow, that is so sweet.
you probably suspect that I come back and reread your posts, over and over, turning each word and phrase over and over, hearing your voice reading them in my head, visualizing you in those moments, allowing the words to pull us closer for a few precious moments. The first time I read it, it made me smile, made me happy in the love you share so openly. This time there are tears in my eyes and I want to cry and push this feeling out of my chest, push the loneliness away. Ohgod, my love, I love you so much and I miss you and it makes me ache to know that short days ago our fingertips knew each other’s skin and our lips found new songs to sing into each other…
my clothes sit in my luggage still, infused with the smell of roses, the smell of you. If I pull them out, put them away in their drawers, they’ll soon stop smelling like you.. so I leave them in there so I can open the top and draw you into me. My hopeless romantic is in love with your hopeless romantic and somehow that adds up to hopefulness.
I love you.