i’ve spent the summer with my family.
my husband has blurred. he’s one of the five of us. we’re all in this together.
but i don’t know.
sometimes i miss the two of us.
apparently he could have been found on the beach in his wayne state hat making drip sand castles.
that’s where i could have found him this summer when he wasn’t working. or pulling weeds. or fighting with a broken lawn mower. or fishing. or playing music and dancing in the dining room. or playing minecraft. or board games. or tucking in his children.
i could have found him all those places.
but what about just him and just me?
there are the four minutes in the morning when we both wake up or are woken up by a small person or people.
there are those two minutes when he makes his way to kiss me while he rolls his bike away from the fireplace and onto the front porch to head out to the library.
there is dinner. there is bedtime. there is netflix with him and reading books on pillows, eyes barely staying open. there are nights when goodnight kisses go off the rails.
is that when when we’re together, just him and just me?
this person i live alongside with.
i want you.
i want to see you when we are five. when we are two. when you are one.
i don’t want to miss you when you’re right in front of me.
so let’s go out to breakfast, just us.
and let’s go to the beach one more time, just the five of us.
and yes, i’ll watch the kids so you can go and just be joshua somewhere else. just like you let me go and be zena lots of times.
the boundaries of your love have fallen for me in pleasant places.