Endlessly Shifting

It was so real at one time. The love was. It was real and it existed and it doesn’t now.

Maybe it wasn’t ever really real. No. It was, is was everything.

We lived together and shared our things, bought new things. My favorite blanket became a muted green and brown quilt that his grandmother had cut and sewn for him. His sister’s and cousins each had their own handmade quilt. He liked to bundle up in the first blanket I had every crocheted. It is mostly cream wool with scattered circles of burnt autumn colors and had taken hundreds of hours to make a couple years earlier. It was his favorite even though it was too short to cover his feet.

A trade of things we cherished.

Today is a day I really don’t want to be home alone with my father but I’m honestly feeling too much anxiety to just go sit at a coffee shop or motivate myself to go meet new people. But I saw one friend yesterday and my other  friend I’ll see this on Wednesday.

I’m allowing myself the space to feel lonely. Of course I miss my wider friend group. I miss Marianne and Charissa most days. And my cousins. The babes are growing up and I know I won’t see them for a while. I miss my Saturday afternoon volleyball intramural friends. I miss my coworkers and students. I had carved out a structure and life for myself and I liked many parts of it. I miss Frank less and less but of course I still miss so much about that time in my life.