I Let Myself Let Go

I let myself miss you today.

I rolled over mid-morning, groggily hoping you would be lying next to me. I kept my eyes tightly shut, and behind them I saw your mouth slightly open. I smelled your skin so close to me. I imagined the sunlight from the west cascading over your bare chest. I imagined the weight of your arm across my naked body. I ran my fingers in sweet circles around your face, until you wrapped your hand around mine and buried me in your grasp. You kissed the side of my head and wished me to sleep for just a little longer. Just for another hour.

I let myself miss you today.

I heard you call from the kitchen to wake me up. I felt the wind come through the open bedroom door. Happily smelling bacon and eggs, I wrapped the sheet around me and hobbled to see you standing in boxer briefs in front of the stove. You turned your head just enough to meet my grin, and you wished my morning well. Satisfied from the night spent with you, yet hungry for the energy I lost while love making, I sniffed my way toward you, kissing your back and letting you seep through me. You rushed me to the couch, where you brought me orange juice and a meal, and together we watched whatever we could find, ignoring the set as we talked over it. I sat Indian style, you sat so close our knees touched and for no reason at all, you kissed my makeup-free cheek and called me beautiful.

I let myself miss you today.

I split that pitcher of coconut mojiotos you love so much, watching you chew on the sugar cane as you talked about the political spectrum I’m really not that interested in, but I’m interested in making you happy. I let you have the last dumpling. You kept your hand permanently on my knee in that little booth in that little corner of that little bar in Little Italy. I watched the dimples cave around your mouth. You didn’t even catch your breath before you complimented my blues in the sunset, and you said those three words that I’m so insanely terrified I’ll never mean again with anyone else. I squeezed your hand – and then your crotch – and you smiled, feeling that closeness. I watched your mischievous side come out and I instantly couldn’t wait to play with it.

I let myself miss you today.

I asked if you preferred the green or the red peppers in your stir fry, and you stuck your tongue out at me in response. I scrunched my nose to protest and grabbed each, commenting that we’d have colorful food, and you’d like it. You put another vanilla yogurt with Crunch in the cart and I pushed it along, thinking about the dinners we’d cook, the nights we’d share. I imagined your hair graying and that gym-made body turn into a beer-full tummy. I wondered what we’d say about these days, the ones where New York was our playground and everything felt right because we were side-by-side. I considered if I’d always love you this much, if it was possible to love anyone more than I did on Aisle 2 of the Krasdale, watching you debate two boxes of rice. You turned my way and asked my opinion. I went with the brown to keep you healthy, and in return, you rubbed your cheeks against mine and said those damn words that I wish I could hear just one more time.

I let myself miss you today.

I ran from the uptown station to my apartment, feeling the chilly April rain bounce off my skin. I turned the key to the place I share with four others, and collapsed into the bed I used to share with you. I couldn’t pinpoint where they came from or why, six months later, they still come at all, but they fled anyway. I tasted their salty solutions as they rested on my lips and I covered my face in embarrassment. I knew I had washed them dozens of times before, but I buried myself in the sheets, somehow determined to smell you again, or at least to remember. I thought of all the parts of myself I can’t repair, the feelings I can’t replace, and the me that I can’t recreate without you.

You weren’t here today, but you were with me. In these dirty streets and in their dazzling illusions of perfection. In that skyline view that you first showed me as I stood up through your sunroof on the BQE. In those bittersweet pictures where our eyes matched, along with our heart and our hopes. In those fragrant flowers on the street, in those drinks that I need to be a little stronger these days. And especially on these rainy days, where I wake up and decide that today, I’ll let myself miss you. I’ll let myself remember when we were happy and so was this city, both in the shine and in the downpour. And then before the night comes around to bring me another dawn, I’ll let that furious faith dissolve.

And then I’ll decide that today, I’ll let myself… let go. Because while I can’t forget, and certain Sundays (or Tuesdays), I may go back to another time, there’s only one place for you and I, now. Maybe it’s on those streets, in those drinks, in those memories or in those days.

But it’s not in the new places I find without your guidance or company, not in the cocktails I toast with my friends, not in the life I’m creating for myself, and not in this day. Not in the day I decide to let you go. Even if I miss the you I thought you were.

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8 thoughts on “I Let Myself Let Go

  1. Hi Lindsay. I’m Michelle. I stumbled on your blog when I was googling about love articles to read. I have been reading your blog for a few days now and got to know you. So, I kept you in mind and when I wrote my first blog today, I wrote something about you. http://livelaughluvjoynhappiness.blogspot.com

    You are an amazing person and who care if you didn’t get flowers at work. It doesn’t mean you are any less.

    • Thank you so much for your kind words – I loved what you wrote Michelle! Keep being brave, it’s those chances you don’t take that you regret, not the ones you do. Let me know if I can ever help! xo

      • Thank you for your comment. It was touching because you only have kind words to say. It’s hard to find something to read online that is written very well and is something that I can absolutely relate to. When you are expressing yourself in your writing, I feel as if you are expressing exactly how I will be feeling with such clarity and coherence. You write as if you are going through my thoughts. You remind your readers to stay true to one’s self no matter how difficult it can get at times. Most importantly, no matter how desperately you want something you would not lie to yourself. Because of you love yourself first, you are able to reflect your love for your readers. You are able to guide your readers to the process of healing by turning feelings of despairs into hopes. Your writing is very insightful and is filled with full of hopes that keep me wanting to read more. Your writing is truly an art, and art is rooted deep in my soul. You deserve so much more than someone to love and to be loved. The way I see it, it is not how we fit into the world, but how the world fit us.

        Thank you for your wonderful influence. It is truly an inspiration. I learned so much from you. Through reading your writing, I begin my journey of becoming a more passionate writer. You can help me by keep writing :) Any writing you do, I will always be a fan. I do wonder what you write for your company’s magazine. I would be very interesting to read your articles. By the way, my email is alternative_contact@yahoo.com

        PS When you finish your yellow sundress book, I would not hesitate to buy it. I am also a love addict :)

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