(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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