The perfect fit.
I went to the Gynocologist today and Jon came and we were sitting at the front desk as she had me fill out paper work. She took my insurance card and asked if it was under my parents, and my heart just completely sank, because I thought it may be under my dad, and that I wouldn’t have to explain that he’s no longer here. It ended up not being, but I got kind of flustered and was like “my parents? Oh, uhm, I’m not sure which parent it’s under…” I never know how to talk about my dad, wether in present or past tense.
I don’t know why, but that really was rough.
I don’t miss you but I remember you.
Occasionally, your name rolls off the tip of my tongue. Occasionally, it leaves my mouth through my parted lips and everyone seems to be having a hard time understanding why it does.
I am still allowed to pronounce your name because we held hands for too long. We walked upon sidewalks together and now I walk them alone. I kissed you at every corner and at every stoplight. We sat across from each other at tables in small coffee shops. In fact, I don’t think there is one single coffee shop that we didn’t visit together. You tore daffodils from the ground beneath your feet and you placed them between the knots in my hair.
So I am still allowed to pronounce your name because I loved you enough. I know I did. I let you write your name on the insides of my wrist. I let you leave your fingerprints and most of all, your footsteps.
I am allowed to remember you.
But that has never meant, I miss you.