Wherever You Went, There You Were

I wanted to kiss you until the stars blinked out into cold masses of dust and I wanted the heat between us to ignite a new universe filled with new stars named after candy and breakfast cereals.

And I wanted you in my bed, curled under my arm, whispering to me secret names for god and sex and I wanted to see you naked in the flickering candlelight, blankets bunched down at your ankles, sheen of sweat upon your thighs.

It’s a good thing we don’t have to worry about a future together.

It’s a good thing it won’t ever be our turn to suffer through such loss, yes what a good great thing we will never come to that.

Yet I can’t help but wonder what happened.
Where did you go?
In which wild country did you live?

How do we find the future if we don’t understand the consequences of our actions?
Are we human beings without?
That is, can we even be human without what if?

How do we feed? Who will take care of us in the future? Who will look after that which we have done and not done, kissed and not kissed, loved and not loved?

Will you remember me in your future?
Will you remember I told you?
Will you remember forever?

Why do I wonder?

My husband was like me. He lived a life filled with routine and convenience followed by frustration and depression, and while he had a respectable career in corporate America, he was not satisfied.

The only passion he chose to follow was raising our children. He loved them dearly. He wanted to keep them happy in a world filled with so much despair and misery.

He wanted them to have a future filled with light and love and love and life.

He wanted them to have a forever.

I think too often on forevers.

I think eternity is such a long, long time and I think I meant it when I said, “forever.”

I think I really meant it that time.

Wherever You Went, There You Were