January 30, 2011 § 16 Comments
Your words come through the ether and appear on this screen. Black on white, as if you are no part of the world that contains the trees outside my window, the dog asleep on my floor. You shimmer in a parallel universe of over-excited electrons.
You claim to send posts from your car, your desk, the cereal aisle at the store, but you might as well be reporting from a space capsule circling the planet.
No matter how hard I reach toward you, I can’t touch you.
You send me this : )
I get it. You’re smiling.
If your real smile were that simple you would be sitting on a bench in the sun, drooling. Your real smile is subtle, complicated. Sad as well as happy, it proves that you are human.
: ) makes happiness generic. Impersonal. One-size-fits-all. As nourishing as a bag of Cheetos.
You’re laughing? The silence in this room is broken only by the quiet whir of the fan in my computer. I miss your laugh. Your voice. The silences between your words.
Let me fix you a cup of coffee, make you a sandwich, show you my garden, sing you a song, give you a hug.
Later? I stare at the screen and wonder if later is just another word for never. If I could see your face I’d know. Your eyes don’t lie. But if I could see your face I wouldn’t be reading your black-on-white excuse, as sharp and crisp as a man in a tux.
How about now? We’ll drink coffee, strong coffee. The thick china mugs will warm our hands. We’ll laugh out loud and the corners of your eyes will crinkle.
I know why you are not here–and why I am not there.
Too far away.
Too caught up with the “to do” list that has everything on it but “live.”
I know all that, but I still want to talk to you. Face to face.
This is written for absent friends and family–I miss you guys–and for the human family, that sometimes forgets, as mammals we need the comfort of contact, and we need it within easy reach.