Each time I see a photo I can imagine your touch, voice, laugh, maybe even the whole sparkling moment. I know this gift will one day fade, and I hope not too swiftly. For my hands grasp for something solid (ah but no, my mind will have to do).
The dreams have arrived – Joyous ones, sad ones. Weird ones. You are never really the “you” I crave. Sometimes looking at me strangely, or in the background, or gone too soon. I urge my mind to create more realistic scenes in the nighttime.
I talk to you. I ask for help when I need it. I tell you I miss you and how much I love(d) you, hoping somehow you can hear me through the ether. I ask for your advice when betting on the Melbourne cup and win for the first time ever!
Sometimes I feel you all around me, a glow of emotion, other times the silence echoes and bleeds.
The children (and coffee) lift my heavy clay limbs out of bed each morning. Each task taking me from A to B to C, drawing the sides of an aimless shape, allowing only whispers of you to drift over the pliant surface.
Work keeps me focused like a sharp needle, sewing and sewing the stitches around that part of my brain where thoughts of you don’t always gain entry.
Yet from time to time you are slotted in haphazardly as if I have no control, and everything stops for a moment, or an aeon.
An aeon it will feel without you; a moment was all we shared.
One shining, golden moment.