I guess I should change my alarms ring of you singing ‘good morning sunshine!!’ Because now that you’re gone, I’m not sunshine anymore and the mornings ain’t that great.
I have to trash the calendar now too. Because the huge circle on 15th kills me every time now that there’s no more anniversary.
Damn, I should also change this darn voice mail because now there’s no more…..”We’re too busy loving. We can’t answer the phone.”
I can’t cook pancakes anymore because every time I do, I remember how you’d come, hug me from behind, taste the batter then kiss me and whisper into my ear; “I knew it was missing something.” “You.” And I can’t hold back the tears.
The sunrise is not as beautiful as it was anymore. I hate it now. Because all I see when the rays hit me is how beautiful your eyes were in the morning sun. Your big brown eyes would turn just a shade of bright hazel and I was hooked to them. Glaring at them. Those two never ending pools. Now I can’t anymore.
Atleast my white T-shirts stay clean nowadays because you always found a way to mess them up. Rambling on about how you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. And that one time you spilled coffee on it. And you got so nervous that I’d be mad and I hugged you and said, “I still love you, you silly klutz “. And you smiled. I now wish I could have taken that picture. Because that was one beautiful smile. Boy that smile. Could bring out the sun on a cloudy day.
I have no one to take the blanket from now. You complained every single time I did it but as you did you’d snake your hands round my waist and pull me closer to you. And I loved it. Complain all you want boy. I’d give anything to have those arms wrapped around me again. They were my favourite place. Always so warm. I mean screw that blanket.
I can’t make fun of other couples anymore. I can’t laugh at them eating groundnuts and be like, “He courted her with groundnuts??? Who does that? And she fell for it? What’s wrong with her?? Women these days!!!”. And I’d get so bitter and go feminist and you’d laugh your head off, which would lead to endless snorts and I would start laughing at how funny your laughter is and we would all end up on the ground laughing as though our lives depended on it.
I miss that. So bad.
I still keep expecting someone to come snatch up my book while I’m reading it. You got so irritated when I didn’t give you attention. And I’d get so pissed that you were disrupting me. So you’d throw some corny line like, ” Babe if I were a story teller, honey you’d be the story I’d never tell, because I can’t stand sharing you to the whole world. Because your mine. Mine to write, mine to read and mine to keep.” And I would turn beet red and you’d be so elated and keep boasting about how good your lines are. And I would have a comeback at the tip of my tongue to trim back your ego. And boy was I good.
Aaaaah…. I miss that. I miss you.
But all these remain just but memories. Etched in my brain. Keeping my loneself sane. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and my heart grows fonder every minute you’re not here.
I’ll get through this. Maybe if I keep feeding my heart that lie, it might actually believe it.