(hours) / an email to a friend;

July 16th, 2009 · 0 comments

she kept saying, “i’ll see you after my surgery!” i keep thinking that, how she said that as we said goodbye to her that day, and feeling this tiny lump in my throat. she was in the middle of reading a book when we arrived, and i’ve been so upset that she’ll never finish it. she’s never going to finish it.
 
.
rob’s grandmother passed away last friday. he has been taking the loss better than i anticipated, but there’s this softness to the edges of everything right now. a careful humming.
 
we’re lately private in our days, crass & judgmental, laughing into each other’s open mouths. the way our hands are wrung, watching my plants die. reading throughout the thick hours on the other side of midnight; the edges of our large bed; the slim & pale ghost of one leg hanging over.

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