There are some days I just wake up weepy, confused about my direction, dismayed at my life, bewildered about the love missing in my life.  Looking for my muse. Today was just that.  I didn’t necessarily wake up depressed or sad, I woke up missing… just about everything.

I do my best to live in the now, but as years go by and my experience deepens and broadens, it can be a challenge to stay out of the past and in the moment. What I mean is, it is easy to fall into reflection of our lives – which is good – but then get caught in a downward spiral of memories. Just like Alice’s rabbit hole, I fall. Introspection is good, but morbid introspection does not make a joyful traveller.

On the mornings that I wake up missing, I realize that I am in a space where I need to be joined to something bigger than me. It is that relationship with love [you] that gives me purpose, that fills the empty places and makes me feel like I am part of the whole. That bond actually pulls my walls down! I suppose it is my Freudian need to merge with the collective unconscience and feel linked to this universe.  Do I love you because I am navigating toward my other self, or because I am trying to connect to the world? Either way, it is a beautifully painful experience to miss, and a mysterious and scary adventure to converge upon (minds, hearts, lives).

On my day of missing, I write this verse…

The Day I Went Missing

It seems that all at once I am ready to think of more than just me, but you are absent. I can not find you in the darkness of my mind.  I can not find you in the light of my imagination. As I ramble through my memories I find traces of you, pieces of experiences that I will never take for granted. I find the lines that contain you, and imagine the color you have poured into each second of my life. I imagine memories from moments that are yet to be created…

I miss your eyes sparkling with excitement
when you looked over your shoulder as we made the crest
and you reached back for my hand
together we climbed to share the view of 1000 miles
I miss you pressing your lips to mine to wake me from my dreams
your hot breath wafting across my face
as fragrant as the aroma of the boulangeries from the streets in St. Germaine
the sound of your gentle voice could not refresh me more
I miss each moment of shared laughter and silly stories
pretend voices and playing music so loud the cops stop in for a visit
Every nervous peek into your heart
you were bold enough to share
every word spoken to encourage
guide
rant
your whining
I miss
I think about your longish fingers and warm hands as they untie the lace on the back of my skirt
quiet hours
moody light
I can still feel your touch as you slipped your hand under my shirt to lay skin on skin and without a word we made love
I miss that
I miss cozy fireplace evenings of quiet contemplation as I wait for your return
sexy selfies
personally revealing journal entries
time alone – utterly alone
and French music playing on Pandora
I miss our toasts
clink clink clink
one
two
three drinks
with each one knowing the next one would be a little more dangerous
a good bourbon I miss
my bar I miss
I even miss the way your hand wraps around a whiskey glass
the way you pour your French wine with your thumb slightly pointing forward
god I love that
I miss the laughter of children playing in my pool
dogs barking
balls bouncing
and the way you would look across the garden with eyes that spoke desire
I miss your happiness
Long walks along the trail I miss
watching the riders go by
saying hello to strangers and feeling like the lioness protecting her domain
I miss the warmth of my home and the smell of fresh pressed coffee in the morning
I miss deep conversations with my son
my brother and nieces and family fun
I miss the crazy times and being young
I miss your strong arms and tender lips
I miss your sudden moves that made me laugh
you’re slow kiss
I miss your company in the other room
I miss making love in the afternoon
I miss our intimate talks afterwards
exploring poetry and love
talking of life and letting go
never understanding that the hurt had gone too deep
I miss sleeping with you
I miss sleeping
I miss sleep
I miss my mother
I miss my father
I miss my sisters
I miss my daughter
I miss the smell of your hair
sweet as the lavender you picked for me
in the fields of Provence
in the garden of Versailles
in the field behind the country house
I miss your hands on my shoulders
sliding around to the nap of my neck as you pull me close
and that boyish chuckle afterwards
as you nuzzle your face to my neck
whispering what you want to do next
. . . oh how I miss that kiss
Breakfast chats
sitting on your lap
the glow on your face in the morning
I miss your innocence about life
and our clever conversations
how could it be that you would ever leave me
why would you want to miss me like that?
I miss swimming naked in the pool
late at night
full moon
our favorite wine
I miss fires in the chiminea and how we would lay with legs intertwined
on the recliner
flipping bottle caps and missing
laughing
then kissing
Will there ever be an end to all this missing?
© Sandy Hibbard 2016