apropos of nothing
December 04, 2005
This Little Light of Mine
The light is the most persistant reminder.
I do all of the rest of it just fine. Cook for myself. Eat alone, even if all too frequently standing at the kitchen counter. Fill my days and nights with a good blend of companionship and solitude. Take the garbage out. Carry the heavy stuff. Host a party or two. Make plans and schemes and dreams.
But I cannot turn out the bedroom light at night.
Every night I'd fall asleep, my book propped up on the empty pillow beside me. Some time later, ignoring my sleepy insistence that I was still reading, he'd (in this small way they were both the same; different actors playing the same role) take the book from my hand, kiss my forehead, and turn out the light.
I wake up every morning, now, disoriented and confused, unsure of where I am.
The light makes every sleep restless. And every day it takes me a few seconds to remember.
Posted by sasha
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