There is nothing new to say. While there have been many small moments full of smiles and laughs, there have not been very many big moments to cement us together.
Every night, he calls me to say goodnight.
Unless he’s asleep.
Or I am.
Partly my memory is to blame. Time is elusive, a slippery fish in an oily sea. I began writing to remember us, because some things are too precious to forget.
But forget I do.
Until I am left with only an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, of missed chances and never enough time. The luster is off the newness of the new year, and so far it’s been late Saturday nights falling asleep on the couch and mumbled goodnight phone calls during the weekdays.
I begin to wonder how I would be alone.
After all, I am alone most days, anyway.
I imagine living in this city, visiting the cafes he has introduced me to during the warm summer evenings. I walk the burning hot sidewalks, dodging under the arching shade as quickly as I can. I now know where to find the best dark beer, the restaurants who house culinary genius, and several hidden-secret specialty shops in California.
In a way, our love affair has been one with the city of Sacramento as well.
And it has been wonderful.
But there also has to be more to life, than simply waiting for Saturday.