Space and Time and Space

Space and Time and Space

It's not buried too deep; it may rest in a shallow grave, but buried it is. Even so, when a single word escapes, it often comes rushing to the surface with overwhelming power. A geyser of little moments, half remembered in the fog, explode with exquisite color.

The bench by the river in the rain, close, watching the drops flit by in the midnight lamp light. The misty, cloudy day at the observatory, where all we saw was the primordial forest, the birds, and each other. The cloudy roof where we said, without saying, the meaning of the look in our eyes. The crowded reunion where we sat amongst your friends, our socked feet just brushing past one another with each passing breath, and how tightly you hugged me goodbye. The night we sat on the balcony overlooking the great library, the little mouse watching us from its hiding spot in the jade ivy. The night you came to me, dusty and tired, and lay on my fluffy blanket on the floor. The drive where you suddenly grabbed my hand, flushed and staring straight ahead.

"I wish you were here"

"I'm quite fond of you too"

"That made me smile"

"Thank you for asking"

"I like your hugs"

"I think you'll like it, it's sweet" ... "Just like you"

"I'm not going to forget about you"

"You're a good one"

"I'm glad I got to see you tonight"

And then, of course the inevitable.

"I know what it feels like to be left behind, and I don't want you to go through that"

"It just won't work"

"I wish it could be different"

And silence. The silence was the hardest part. Even with space and time and space, there is still a space in me for you, that you filled up with warmth and kindness and little smiles for me, and just for me. An hour, a day, a week, a month, a year. It lessens, it ebbs, it no longer throbs, and it disappears so far into the background that it's dismissed as noise. But every so often, despite the space and time and space...