this week the islands we’ve created in our minds seemed to call to us more often. keeping us separate, even together. the exhausting paralysis of two lives in limbo gave bite to even mundane exchanges between husband and wife. “did you forget the avocado?” was suddenly a scathing accusation. a jarring reminder that your head is barely above water and you’re too busy, too tired, too neglected to care.
but yesterday you stopped me in the hallway. your thick fingers finding the hard line of my jaw and you kissed me so sweetly i felt something inside me break loose. like a boat tethered to a tree between two shores. i wanted to say “i’m sorry,” but you just held me there because you knew. you were saying sorry too.