nine lives

Calm fills my body with soft cotton. I am deeply quiet, distantly interested in the world around me. I enjoy the flowers on my walk, but I must keep them to myself. I can hear the emptiness in my mind, echoing footsteps in a clean warehouse. My thoughts are light as seed fluff, floating gentle and free but wary of the shadow animal that disappears at the far edge of the light. I'm able to carry on, but I know the loss will both blunt with time and continue to wound me as it catches and cuts. For now, my mind is suddenly unoccupied with trying to figure out an impossible question, suddenly free to muse over problems that are finite, ideas that can grow. I am alone. 

My dreams are simple and peaceful. No more being torn in two, they're New Start dreams. Building things, meeting people, the mundane. My down comforter is soft and light. I keep remembering we still need to cut yours down. Not the only time something weightless felt so heavy.

We've been through this cycle at least seven times before: in January when you were holding my hand, before the nicest Ikea trip, before zip lining, Father's Day, fall red sweater, "a month ago," mom's visit, and now. Each time it's lasted longer, the loss greater but the recovery easier. The first time was before I even really knew you, now we've been on this tightrope for almost two years. Our nine lives are almost up. 

In the end, you kept your word and didn't disappear. I've never seen someone able to hold on in spite of my searing uncertainty. You really are an athlete, taking the punishment without regret, without resentment. But why?? You deserve more. As we fly over the edge in a slow motion, soundless tumble, choreographed chaos that seems almost gentle...as we reach our terminal velocity, we relax. Like cats, we ready ourselves for what happens when the sound comes streaming back and the ground rushes to our feet.