A is for AnnaBeth

[AnnaBeth]

[No comments on this post, please]

I played on the swings at the park today and thought about you.

No one knew why I was having so much fun. No one knew who I was thinking about and worrying about. No one knew my secret.

But you do.

I hope you're okay. I hope you're absent for a reason that makes sense and is good for you.

I hope you come back one day.

 

[AnnaBeth]

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I put my faith in the power of numbers.

Somehow they would magically make you come back, make you breathe in my soul again. I just had to be patient.

To wait. To watch the seconds roll into minutes.

The minutes trudge into hours.

Hours pass like glaciers into days until in a shattering crack of frozen crystal the numbers were right and you'd be back and things would be just as before, only sharper edged for having been apart.

I put my faith in the power of numbers.

Faith is just another word for lonely hope.

 

[AnnaBeth]

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It's been a month.

That's no time at all to the elderly, days passing like seconds. It's forever to a child waiting for their birthday or Christmas or the next time they get to go to Daddy for the weekend.

It's been measured in hope and quiet attempts to let it go, to say good-bye and know that sometimes things just happen. It's been measured in hours of lost sleep trying to figure it all out and hoping that you're okay, trusting that as amazing as you are that you are taking care of yourself.

It's been measured in a few nights of sitting in the corner of the closet where the clothes close in and it feels safe and like the world outside doesn't exist.

Sometimes I've been mad, full of fiery anger even, then coldly indifferent as if the two extremes would cancel each other out and leave me balanced.

It's stupid.

I don't care and I still hope you come back.

 

[AnnaBeth]

[No comments on this post please]

Sinead sang that it had been seven hours and fifteen days.

It's been fifty days and seven hours.

I just want to know, please. Just tell me you are okay and that I can stop thinking about you. Stop worrying that something happened to you. Stop trying to figure out what I did or what I didn't do. Stop worrying that it was me and not something or someone else.

I want closure, even if it's just the sound of the door slamming for the last time.

I want to be able to put you in my memory box and let you rest there among faded flowers and other silly girlish things that I need to keep but can't always bear to remember.

 

[AnnaBeth]

[No comments on this post please]

I'm all up in my feelings right now. Please forgive me if I'm slower than normal, or outright a ghost until I can get myself centered again.