Miles Apart-Yellowcard

Heartinsand
Originally uploaded by last_light.

He steps out of the only vehicle of which he adores, wearing items that I have purchased for him, those that are rarely ever worn. In fact I cannot recall seeing him in this attire since they have been brought inside the house and laid out on his side of the bed…with good intentions, yearning to see him dressed, or just smelling the scent of a cologne that I wrapped him up for Christmas…still inside it's own box.
Crisp white buttoned down shirt, short sleeve, with medium blue and pale yellow pin stripes, so simple…blue jeans…just the correct fade of blue, and the Doc Marten sandals that he rarely slips on, he hates them, as a matter of fact…he seems to be making an attempt at a marriage on this night…I can tell, yet have no idea what or how to think.

I smiled as I saw him, entering the yard, but still wondered about both our own intentions…the outcome of these 23 years of life together…ever fading…ever flowing underneath bridges that could crumble at any one given moment.

So Many Miles Apart

We were all gathered out on the back patio, our friends, on a warm evening near the very end of June, awash with the evening sun, settling into the western trees…shining, fading, into the darkness, only to expose circles of dancing fireflies. He had poured some wine for himself and music played on the speakers outside. I was thinking that in each house on each street, on all the pastel glistening patios, there were others with evening sunsets, and women and men who might or might not love each other, who might or might not have indelible connections of their own.

We Are Miles Apart....

He causes our friends to smile and laugh, crystal blue eyes and hair bleached yellow from the summer sun, he is infectious. Why does he generate such love from others…yet not from me…this I do not understand. Throughout the evening he glances over towards me. There are times when he has told a joke or unassumingly said something funny and he makes eye contact. While inside the kitchen gathering a few late night snacks for the group, I watch through the atrium doors, out into the darkness illuminated only by candles and those damn dancing fireflies. He continues to smile, always part of the conversation. He will not, however, get up from his chair, to act out an event-he is not animated-always very calm and relaxed in a crowd. It is something I love and despise in the same breath. Several glasses of wine later, I do not know how to interpret this evening. His attire confuses me, makes me want him, yet the minimal interactions between us are not at all an attempt at any passionate courtship later in the evening.
Can this relationship ever be filled with meaning again, or are we just going through the motions? If lovers alone wear sunlight ( E.E. Cummings), then I must be living in some deep and lonely cave.

Dissastrous Miles Apart

When the evening ends and all is cleaned up from the outdoor tables, he climbs the stairs to go up to bed. I stay up and wait for the children to return home. This will take a while. He will fall asleep. I will not wake him.

Once the kids are secured in and I finish checking my mails, and speaking with a dear friend online, I walk out into the steamy night air. I bang my hand against the side of my head to empty out the cascade of my family conversations, my friend's conversations and my special friend's advice. By the time I reached the bend in the road, I can almost hear my own thoughts again.

The scary thing is, I am not quite sure if I want to. I am starting to scare myself.

Maybe Miles Apart will always be hanging there...as heavy as the evening air.

Still...as I enter the pale yellow kitchen, there is a small Post It on the counter this morning......in his wonderous handwriting...it says

"I made Coffee"