Nothing like a little Guns N Roses to get the blog back into shape eh?

I wish that you could see the house right now.
Spotless.
Fucking spotless.
Every Cheerio, every piece of grated cheese, every mini Easter egg candy, every crunchy trying to attach itself to my sock
Has been swept up.
And tossed out.

The floors are scrubbed.
The black scuff marks from the dancing feet of the girls erased permanently.
The smudge marks from spilled food wiped clean.
The dots of sticky and furry liquid
Beer? Juice? Coffee?
I’m guessing coffee
Now gone.

And I vacuumed.
And I tidied.
And I removed the sheets
Sweet and distinct
From the bed.
They’re tumbling in the dryer right now
Alongside my once damp Little Miss Chatty pajama top
And the panties that rode up my ass
At the same time as they threatened to fall off.

I wish that you could see the house right now.
Spotless.
Fucking spotless.
Because

If I stop cleaning
Stop MOVING
I shake.
My hands start to tremble until I can’t grab hold of a sippy cup to wash.
Until my fingers are as tentative as yours when you think you’re hurting me.
Until I become a klutz in my own kitchen.

I shake.

My legs are start to wobble
Threatening to collapse me.
And my arms weave and sway
Unsteady
Unable to grab onto anything
To hold me up.
And I fall forward
Onto the counter and lay my swimming head down on the cold hardness.

As my shoulders begin to ache
Longing for the firm hand that once laid there.
My neck starts to strain
And hurt
Longing for the other firm hand.
There is no one steadying themselves against me.
No one leaning on me.
No one leaning into me.

I don’t dare stop moving.

I wish that you could hear the CD that I bought at Shopper’s Drug Mart.
Better even than I thought it would be.
Beautiful.
And sad.
The sound of the flute
And the soft, rhythmic drumming in the background
Filling me up
Until every nook
And ever cranny
Is throbbing with the sound.

Beautiful
And sad.

I listen to it over and over again
Over and over and over and over again
Because if I stop listening
If I stop listening
And let the silence abound
It’s deafening.

And in the silence
My chest fills
Until it hurts.

And my eyes fill
Just as quickly.

And as my chest threatens to explode
Forcing me to double over
And my eyes fill with salty tears
And gloss over
My breath comes out in a sob.
A scream.
A moan.
A howl.

And I choke.

Until the deafening silence pulls out of me the absolute worst pain the likes of which this Canadian girl has ever felt.

And I cry.
Until I choke.

I watched your car pull out of the gas station.
Watched it drive away.
Watched if from my window.
And I begged
Don’t go.
Don’t go.
Don’t go.
Come back.
Come back.
Come back.
I begged
Until I couldn’t see it anymore.
Until I knew that you had driven away.
Not for good,
I know,
But for now.
I begged until I couldn’t see you anymore
And I knew you were gone.

And then I cried until I choke.

And every car that has passed my house since then
Has looked like yours.

I feel as though I’m standing at the end of a large room.
And I need only to get to the other side.
But in between
There are scores of people standing
Each one reaching out to me
Grabbing at me
Pulling at me
Holding me back.

And there you stand at the other end
Smiling at me
And begging me to move
Begging me to cross to the other side
Of the room
And I’m trying so hard.
But I keep losing sight of you
In the crowd of those grabbing at me
And pulling at me.

And I now know that I will never again crane my neck to see that door that let in no light.
I now know that you don’t live there.
Don’t sit in that room on that bed
Waiting for me.

You are here.

Everywhere I turn.

Your smell.
Your voice.
Your smile.
They’re all still here.
Quiet reminders
That you’re gone.