The box

When Michael was alive, when things were worst, I used to imagine this different reality, this world where I had this person who loved me in the way that wanted, who made me a cup of tea and ran his fingers through my hair, who caught me up in his arms and laughed, where everything was joyful.

After Michael died, I let go of that.  I put that aside.  I said to myself, that dream is not for you, certainly not now.  It's not time to look for that partner; it's time to get healthy again.  And I was all right with that.  It felt peaceful.  It was easiest to think about things that way, putting it away, putting it on hold, focusing on me.

These last two weeks destroyed all that.  Absolutely shattered it, and I can't figure out how to get back there.  I sit here, and I'm not unhappy, not really.  Things to do, the weather is ok, I feel all right... but my heart is aching, and it's because once again, I can see that utterly different reality, where I'm sitting here waiting for him to drop by, anticipating.  And he comes in, and wraps his arms around me, and we can't keep our hands off each other, but we do, because there are other things to do... and so on, until at the end of the day we're in bed, wrapped around each other, waking up together, making breakfast... and then he goes home, because we both need down time, alone time, but this time will happen again, and soon.

I need to put this idea back away, back in the box that goes under the bed, prettily wrapped up for another day, a year from now maybe, when my life is back together.  But I don't want to put it away.  I want him to call, or I want something to work with someone else; I want that happiness, even though I know with every bone in my body that this is not the time, that I cannot, cannot deal with this. 

It has to go away.  I have to take that dream, and put it in a box, a shiny green box.  Then I need to wrap it in pink flowered paper, and tie curly ribbon around it, curl the end.  Maybe the holographic ribbon that I got for the kids.  And then a big bow, and some silk flowers.  So I'll know that it's there, know that it's beautiful, and know that I don't have to look at it right away.