It’s been nearly three weeks, and you should know that it still finds ways to cut when I’m not expecting it.
I ran a quick errand on my lunch break, and I passed an AT&T work van while on the road. I caught myself peering into the cabin to see if was you. Of course it wasn’t and now there’s a dull ache in my chest that wasn’t there before.
Last week I dreamed of you, after a fashion. Just a conversation via text comprised of nothing but silly, inconsequential things that made me smile. When I woke up, I grabbed my phone to continue the conversation before remembering you had nothing else to say.
There’s a dark, cynical piece of me that whispers hurtful things: what does it say about our friendship that you’re just words on a screen–even in my dreams?
There’s no denying that our relationship was unorthodox by traditional definitions. I had no problem telling you when I thought you were being petty or close-minded, which happened often enough. We argued a lot. You frustrated me when it was clear that you couldn’t always recognize the good in your life and build on it. It made me angry that you never accepted that you deserved to be happy; I was angry because I couldn’t help you assert more control over your life. In spite of all that, I never got tired of hearing from you after days or weeks of radio silence. Your simple, “hello,” always sparked joy.
So what does that dream say about us? It says that you are, and always will be, my dear friend. It says that I miss you.