“I’m going out to get cat litter,” you said, icy distance and hurt palpable in your voice.
I casually said, “Okay. Do you want me to come along?” but I could barely look at you.
We had been fighting. You wanted to be alone.
You didn’t come back for a long time.
Actually, I guess it was only a little over an hour—but to me, it felt like a terrifying eternity. A wormhole into an alternate dimension of reality where you weren’t there. Where we weren’t “us.”
Because when you were gone, I wasn’t sure if you’d come back.
I got a bitter taste in my mouth of how it would feel to be without you—-it tasted like the sun was swallowed up, all of its light replaced with dizziness and darkness. It tasted blank and blurry, like the onset of a terrible migraine.
In those sixty empty, slow-passing minutes, I buried myself in chores. I began painting the trim around our living room windows with a rich rusty color called Tibetan Orange. As I dipped a small brush into the bright, dripping paint, I smiled faintly, biting back tears, losing myself in the soothing rhythm of slow brushstrokes on the peeling window frames.
I took a breath. And I starting thinking a lot.
I thought about how it’s easy to take things for granted; how I expect you’ll always be there, standing right next to me.
But, even the most precious gems can get lost, never to be seen again.
People leave us, and we always like to say that it’s not our fault, but sometimes it is.
Sometimes, we push the ones we love away, because of our own fear. Our own grief. Our own pain.
We have to own that.
I have to own that.
I rested my head on my knees and cried.
I realized I had been a complete a** to you.
Closeness isn’t easy as pie. Intimacy isn’t always smooth sailing. Maybe it’s not supposed to be. Maybe love is meant to bring our sh*t bubbling up to the surface, so we can resolve it.
And my dear, our love brought up my fear. My throat-closing, heart-pounding, mind-numbing fear.
So, when I picked a fight and said those harsh words to you, what I really meant is this—I’m scared. I’m scared of getting hurt; of losing myself in your gold-flecked eyes. I’m scared of the crazy-intense feelings I have towards you. I’m scared that one day, you’ll see who I really am, and run like the fiercest wind to get away from me.
It’s often easier to be an ass than admit how vulnerable and confused we are. But slowly, very slowly, I’m realizing that vulnerability is always better than covering my heart in prickly thorns and being a bitch to you.
I exhaled and wiped partially dried tears from my eyes. Even though I still wished our argument never happened—I’m really glad it did.
Because it forced me to peel back my bullsh*t and reveal the raw truth underneath.
So let me say this, as honesty rains like crystalline tears from my eyes—I fucking love you. I appreciate you, to the moon and back.
Every smile. Every kiss. The way your eyes glow with subtle mystery. The beautiful ideas you have. The stupid jokes you make, all day, every day.
You’re pretty damn awesome and I’m proud to stand by your side.
But I won’t easily forget this day, this moment where I thought you left. I won’t forget the cold feeling of being without you; it’s forever frozen within my heart.
And finally, after the longest hour ever, when you staggered through the front door, carrying that cat litter, just as promised, I ran to you and hugged you so hard.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
You smiled.
I pulled you close, and for once, I let you see how much I needed you.
It flurried tiny snowflakes outside, as though the sky itself was celebrating.
It was good to have you back.
More beauty from Sarah:
Self Care & Courage: Face Yourself. Get Sh*t Done.
Unfurl Your Aching Wings & Soar. {Poem}
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Renée Picard
Photo: Flickr
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