Full But Not Satisfied

Bursting with gratitude,

Overflowing with love.

Bittersweet goodbyes,

I will miss you.

Thank you for everything

Sing me a song, so sad and slow,
sing from your heart, however it goes.

Write me a poem, so soft and sweet,
tell me the words, then let our lips meet.

Pour me a mug, of bitter hot joe,
in my favorite mug, this one you know.

Rub my back gently, we lay side-by-side,
wish me sweet dreams, and whisper goodnight.

Tell me you love me, in so many ways,
and I’ll tell you too, for all of our days.

Burst of light
Splitting through the darkness.

This one’s for you,
For you are the light in my darkness
After all these years.

My wish I’ll never tell,
But this one’s for you.

Slice a fresh lemon wedge. The knife glides smoothly through the cold fruit.

I squeeze gently before dropping it into my over-sized mason jar.

Next, ice. So much ice. Flick the faucet and top it off with water.

Pull the kitchen drawer and add a tall, stainless steel straw with a flourish.

I take a long sip followed by a pause,

The cold, barely citrusy flavor washes over me.

I pad over to my desk and start my morning.

They’re judging me, they’re judging me, they’re judging me.

Stop.

Live your truth unapologetically.

You don’t exist to please others. The guilt is hurting you and only you.

Have confidence in your decisions.

Only you know what is right for yourself.

How did we get here, boy?

In the best times these walls swelled with love, joy, laughter.
You held your wife close here
You brought your sons home from the hospital to my secure embrace.
You became a family,
You made this house a home.

But then the sparks began to ignite,
Small at first- furtive glances and snide remarks
Soon became climbing flames and billowing smoke of lies, deception, shouting and tears.

You burned me from the inside out, used the memories as kindling.
Until
There
Was
Nothing
Left
But these four walls.

Destroyed me forever, I was a casualty of your destruction.
There is no more home without a family inside.

And yet
You both stayed
In this charred skeleton of a structure,
A hollow monument to your old life.

Fourteen long months you lived amongst the rubble and glowing embers.
Telling yourselves and the boys it was okay,
To my dismay, you continued to call these ruins home.

I know your intentions are pure,
My walls weep for you as you cling to your old life, just as you cling to me—even though neither exist anymore.
I watch in despair.
I observe the pain in the curve of your shoulders, the love in your voice as you play with your sons, the contempt in your cursory interactions with your still-wife.

And finally, I’ve had enough.
I evict this sad, broken family with a deafening crack.
I shudder under the weight of sadness.
You’re not welcome here anymore. This house is not a home, this family is no longer one.

Start over my remains whisper to the soles of your shoes,
As you stand amidst the rubble.

Let go, son. It’s time.
This isn’t the ending, it’s the start of a new beginning.
Your sons love you.
You’ve found someone new- she loves you too.
Let the past go. It’s okay to be scared.
Today is the beginning of the rest of your life.

You’re welcome, and I’ll miss you too.

Saying, “I love you” multiple times a day and meaning it each and every time.

It’s not a reflex or a formality,

it’s a profession, a promise,

a sprinkle of water on the beautiful thing we’re growing together called us.

It’s an expression of gratitude and caring.

It’s a smile rolled up in a phrase.

It’s so simple yet so vast. Three little words hold the endless ocean of us.