I wrote this while sitting in the waiting room of a chiropractor’s office early of last year. I pulled out my phone and started typing like mad on the ‘memo’ app. Thank goodness for smart phones, eh?
“He never liked it when she wore his things but tonight she needed the memory.
It all came back with a startling ache- the tenderness and laughter. The struggle and pain. She knew it was so cliche to cling to his memory. She knew she should just let him go – he was gone and was never coming back.
Her anger had carried her for months- through the questions, getting rid of his things, the long empty nights. But then she’d found herself in his office, the one room she hadn’t touched. It held his scent, his confidence and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. The tears cascaded down her cheeks and plopped into the plush carpet. He seemed to be sitting there, his hair disheveled and glasses slightly askew from falling asleep at his desk yet again. His smile would form before he had seen her, knowing she was coming with coffee,
“You’re the treasure of my heart, you are.”
The rumble of his voice had always made her heart melt and even as she sat, crumpled on the floor, it did yet again – despite how hopeless it all was.
For all she had left was memories.”