August 31, 2020
Dearly Beloved,
Being bed ridden this past week or so has been a frustrating experience. The grogginess, the pulsating pain searing through flesh and bone, the nonproductive hours. I know I should be resting, but I just can't. I'm weathered, weary, and exhausted of this predicament. From time to time, I manage to feel my way to the bathroom. In an instantaneous flash, I'm bathed in fluorescent lighting. I wash the sleep off my eyes to take a better look
at myself upon the mirror: eyes are red and stare complacently into my reflection;
whiskers of facial hair are here and there; the bags under my eyes have gotten
more conspicuous; my hair is matted, disorganized. In short, I'm a mess,
and I'm apathetic to fix myself up. I also still have that palpable scar
that's on my left eyebrow and the faint, thin scar across my right
cheek, my "childhood treasures". My forehead is smaller and my
lips are thinner than what I once believed. I have to wonder: When was the last time I really looked at myself in the mirror? It is late, it is early, and now is not the time to be awake. So I return to bed quarantined, exiled from the world for possessing a pseudo-deadly illness.
We always did our best to offer much needed support to each other, even if it meant that the other was risking his health. It always made our illnesses much easier to manage. It allowed us to talk, to reminisce, and to reflect. Sometimes, I found myself wanting to get sick just to have more time together. A more softer, vulnerable side of us exposed itself when we would talk. It's almost as though we're reliving our college years for that moment in those moments. We were insecure of our lives and futures, as though it all rested on a flip of a coin rather than discipline, planning, and education. This time, however, is an exception, especially with Claire and Matthew due very soon. You don't want to risk any complications, and I understand. I want what is best for them, too, even if it means enduring this illness alone, trapped in this comfortable prison that is our master bedroom.
We always did our best to offer much needed support to each other, even if it meant that the other was risking his health. It always made our illnesses much easier to manage. It allowed us to talk, to reminisce, and to reflect. Sometimes, I found myself wanting to get sick just to have more time together. A more softer, vulnerable side of us exposed itself when we would talk. It's almost as though we're reliving our college years for that moment in those moments. We were insecure of our lives and futures, as though it all rested on a flip of a coin rather than discipline, planning, and education. This time, however, is an exception, especially with Claire and Matthew due very soon. You don't want to risk any complications, and I understand. I want what is best for them, too, even if it means enduring this illness alone, trapped in this comfortable prison that is our master bedroom.
I don't know how I did it, but I managed to muster enough strength to peer through the window. What I saw welled up emotions within me and I couldn't help but gently weep. I saw the most heavenly sunset: the vast ocean of sky, a sleepy amber, splotched with hints of violets, blues, and reds, becoming more evident the further it is away from the sun; the sun itself, a delicate orange, sits on the horizon, if only for a moment; and the clouds, puffy balls of cotton, hang impeccably across the twilight sky. It was one of those moments where I wished to escape, with you by my side. All I could think about was spending this sunset with you alone, atop a gentle hill, and be amazed by this simple gift of life itself. But I'm here, sick and tired and helpless, and you're too distracted to notice what is above us. It's sad, isn't it? So, will you do me a small favor?...
...Will you watch the sky for me?...
...As though the sun will crawl across the sky for a final time?...
...Will you allow precious memories of our time together come cascading back?...
...Do you remember the times we...
...And all the times we...
...And should have...
....And were going to...?...
...I know...
...Will you watch the night?...
...As a blanket of little lights cover and lull the madness of this world into a slumber...
...If you believe in that sort of thing...
...And know that I'll always be with you, in starlight...
With a love that will never get sick,
Your Lover
Your Lover
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