Actually, it feels more like mourning.
We showered at school, drove thru
Boston, a nice jaunt above campus.
We hugged and studied domesticity.
It’s more of a headache than you
might imagine. I felt trapped. Con
solidated boxes, filled up a scrapbook.
They’re not going to accommodate
me anymore. So what will I do
this week? Take a break from the
lilies? Those goofy financial issues
maraud our den, but I’m relieved. Love
is overrated. Right? I ran away
from thinking about it for a moment.
We didn’t see the same kitchen. He
posted a few things on the refrigerator,
melted the whiteboard, ripped a hole
in the sink. And most interesting,
I’ve found a room in my heart, that
other hole, and I really should de
vote my, well, devotion to it. The
hole. The interregnum.
