Friday, March 22, 2013

at home

I know what I'd like to do.

How I'd like to decorate my home, I mean.

I want to share all my favorite things. Including those parts of us I miss the most. Small tokens, hardly representative of the swell of love I feel with each thought of you.

I want to share them, among my favorite things.

But she'll be angry to see them there.

It makes me angry that I care.

Sometimes I still get overwhelmed with emotion when I think of how much I wanted you to be real, how much I longed to know you, how terribly alone I felt without you.

I think it's kinda how The Boy (aka Fine Young Man) feels about his Daddy.

I wonder sometimes if that's how you ever felt about yours, or about me.

I am still angry at them for keeping you away from me, especially given how incredibly adamant I was in both my belief and my desire.

Forgiveness is easy. Acceptance is impossible.

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