A short story about..bones
Last December the air was so cold that I got back into bed and lay next to her, trying to warm my body with hers.
Being in bed with you is when I was happiest.
When you left for work in the morning, I felt a separation anxiety. When you were beside me, you calmed me down just by being there. You heard out every one of my worries, and you helped me make sense of everything.
My God, last December was so different.
I cooked you dinner for Christmas and opened a good bottle of wine, and we ate the pudding and made the coffee, and we were smiling, and we were happy.
I don’t want to grow old. I don’t wish to reach eighty. I don’t see the point anymore.
Last night I ran into one of my old lovers. I could tell she was glad to see me. I just smiled and walked away, and your face came into my mind.
I’m not the kind of man who goes looking for company when he’s low or missing someone, so I went home after one glass of wine with a close friend. At four in the morning I found myself looking through your pictures, still loving you the way I did yesterday, the way I have since the day I met you.
“Everything fades,” people keep telling me. I’m not sure they’re right, and I’m not sure they know how this feels.
Saying “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you” doesn’t make sense anymore.
The power of love is a curious thing. Some men weep from it, some sing.
I don’t need a full credit card to ride this train full of love. It’s a beautiful trip. Some days I feel happy, some days sad, and some days I catch myself furious.
I want to jump off; I hold on tight to the feeling, knowing I could be hurt. But I keep running.
And when everything finally turns cruel, I want to die. I start thinking about the next step, and I don’t have the strength to take it.
At some point you wish to grow old with someone. Then you don’t want to grow at all. You want to stop everything, to set the limit of your own life. You start to wish you’ll never get too old. Maybe I was never meant to grow old — and the moment I understand that, I’ll smile again.
A short story in the middle of my mind…
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