Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty-Five

1. I wake up and remember that it’s the last morning. How is this already the end?

2. I catch her coming back up from her car and I take my coffee into their cabin to chat. The sunlight illuminates the room. Rumpled sheets, pillows askew, glowing wood.

3. I remind myself to eat the banana before I drink the coffee.

4. I think of the words that need to be written and wonder when I will find space for them. When will there be space for anything? Last night I asked them that I needed space for processing and clarity on how to let more of myself out. I still hold too much in.

5. Time for the good-byes to begin.

6. I watch the two of them walk down the ramp, hand in hand, framed by an archway of green vines. Tear start again in my eyes. I turn back to her and hug her and then fall apart. I can’t remember the last time I cried so hard that snot fell from my nose.

7. We sweep and vacuum and load the car. I will miss this place.

8. Linen overalls, yes please.

9. We head to Compline. Burgers for the both of us. Rosé for her and Pax Syrah for me. Duck fat fries. She says they are like pillows in the mouth.

10. The ride home alone is so quiet. How can things ever be the same?