Gosh, enough is enough. Then I pick myself up and go on to the next project.
Went to work today wondering what was up. I felt tired, sort of feverish, when I woke. Went in and had a very nice morning but was still subdued, quiet. Wanted to be in the stacks, wanted to be working on something important but ended up fielding a question about the upcoming Latino film fest to a co-worker and went from there. Took off home to lunch and heard a showtune, something from My Fair Lady, play from the clocktower.
That's when I fell apart.
I know I'm running tired, that I sleep warm at night and not too solid. I know that I miss the kids, don't know when they're coming home or if The Boy will be coming back in the fall. I have an old friend who has been coming around and that's leaving me confused, more how to work the relationship since I am not interested in forming one with anyone right now. So, instead, I go home and weep to the cadence of a silly show tune. I think of you, that phone call we just had and then stop my blubbering. Buck up. "Straighten up and fly right" as you once said, all that.
It's just that I miss an awful lot of stuff right now. Miss you, miss the kids, miss coffee in the mornings with someone. I miss our easy phone calls, talking about movies and books and such after hours. I work through the weekend, groove with The Boy, entertain friends, go out to eat with pals and all that. But miss, well, that I do. I miss having someone around and yet, at the same time, don't miss the messiness of it all. You and I were very messy at the end. Inevitable, I suppose, but there it is.
Let's blame this mood, then, on that phone call. Let's blame it on the long hangover we've shared, on this god forsaken terrain that I've been wandering around in the last few years. Let's blame it on the Mexican-ness in me, let's blame it on Casablanca and love songs and well penned literature. Let's blame something, someone, somewhere, shall we? I can't take all the responsibility for this heaviness, this silliness, this long, long goodbye.
But maybe that's it. Maybe that's what this has been all about. A long goodbye. The talk at the table we never had. The last minute clutching, the last gasp. The turn around in the car seat, that over the shoulder look before you turn the corner. Maybe all that needed to happen. For certain this needed to be written. A purge, an emptying of the emotional wallet to those three stick up men Memory, Wistfulness and their sidekick Hope.
I think tonight I will drink a bottle of wine, get on with my cooking for tomorrow. Wake up a bit fuzzy and glance over to that spot where your photo once sat. I will wake up and check my pulse, realize that I am still here, be thankful for that.
And then I'll turn, as I always have, in your general direction and do what I'll do the rest of my life, and that is wish you a good morning and a good life. And then get on with mine.
Be of good cheer, as you are well thought of and loved, Professora.
Your WHMB
Someplace I needed to go to a long time ago:
http://breakupnotdown.com/
That's when I fell apart.
I know I'm running tired, that I sleep warm at night and not too solid. I know that I miss the kids, don't know when they're coming home or if The Boy will be coming back in the fall. I have an old friend who has been coming around and that's leaving me confused, more how to work the relationship since I am not interested in forming one with anyone right now. So, instead, I go home and weep to the cadence of a silly show tune. I think of you, that phone call we just had and then stop my blubbering. Buck up. "Straighten up and fly right" as you once said, all that.
It's just that I miss an awful lot of stuff right now. Miss you, miss the kids, miss coffee in the mornings with someone. I miss our easy phone calls, talking about movies and books and such after hours. I work through the weekend, groove with The Boy, entertain friends, go out to eat with pals and all that. But miss, well, that I do. I miss having someone around and yet, at the same time, don't miss the messiness of it all. You and I were very messy at the end. Inevitable, I suppose, but there it is.
Let's blame this mood, then, on that phone call. Let's blame it on the long hangover we've shared, on this god forsaken terrain that I've been wandering around in the last few years. Let's blame it on the Mexican-ness in me, let's blame it on Casablanca and love songs and well penned literature. Let's blame something, someone, somewhere, shall we? I can't take all the responsibility for this heaviness, this silliness, this long, long goodbye.
But maybe that's it. Maybe that's what this has been all about. A long goodbye. The talk at the table we never had. The last minute clutching, the last gasp. The turn around in the car seat, that over the shoulder look before you turn the corner. Maybe all that needed to happen. For certain this needed to be written. A purge, an emptying of the emotional wallet to those three stick up men Memory, Wistfulness and their sidekick Hope.
I think tonight I will drink a bottle of wine, get on with my cooking for tomorrow. Wake up a bit fuzzy and glance over to that spot where your photo once sat. I will wake up and check my pulse, realize that I am still here, be thankful for that.
And then I'll turn, as I always have, in your general direction and do what I'll do the rest of my life, and that is wish you a good morning and a good life. And then get on with mine.
Be of good cheer, as you are well thought of and loved, Professora.
Your WHMB
Someplace I needed to go to a long time ago:
http://breakupnotdown.com/
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