Missing

I hunger for my old life. Not a day goes by that I don't think of something that makes me reminisce and miss something that was a part of that life.

I can see myself walking through the rooms of our house. I'm often alone in my memories, in the way I can see the morning sun coming through the windows in just such a way that signals the hope of a new day. I see myself in my favorite chair, curled up with a book, one that I won't remember the title or the details of six months later. I see my cats perched on top of the refrigerator - I'd attempted climbing up on kitchen chairs to swat them down, but they'd be up there again before I knew it. I finally left them to their bird's eye view in peace. I see myself dancing in the family room, decorating the Christmas tree, and weeding the garden.

I see moments with Nemo too. He and I sleeping in on a lazy Sunday morning, the way my sheets felt against my skin, and warmness that comes only from sleeping beside another person. I see us having dinner together, watching a movie, getting ready for a wedding, painting the basement, planning a trip, all mundane things that mean nothing individually, but together add up to a life shared.

This old life of mine was a sham. The things that I thought I had weren't really there at all. Sure, the material things were there, our physical bodies were there. But the key piece was my husband, his heart, and he was an illusion. I bought into it. I'm not mad at myself for not seeing it earlier, Nemo put on a good show for me. It would be like getting mad at yourself for believing in Santa Claus for so long - when you're a child, all the evidence points to the fact that he is real - but once you know the truth, you're able to see through the facade. And wouldn't you like to go back to the time when you believed? Just for a moment? To breath it in take that fullness with you? There's something to be said for blissful ignorance.

However, there's more to be said about living the truth.

I want to live in the world of integrity, sincerity and honesty. Sometimes these two worlds of mine collide. And I wish for things that I know in my head just can't be, because they never really were.

In my heart, those things were real. If only to me and no one else.