Gray Days

Do you remember how quickly our body temperatures skyrocketed, accelerating from shivering to sweating in minutes, both of us peeling off layers, reaching for your old heater (thank God you got the other one fixed)? Or when we’d reach for each other in the middle of the night because it was too cold not to? Your bed and the pillow I came to prefer. Your couch and the formation we eventually found, after many trial and error attempts, that best suited our bodies. Your laugh, both the real version and the polite, how I came to anticipate both. Those gray days when I ran out of clean leggings and yoga pants, when I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been home for longer than a few hours, when we’d order two meals in one day… they seemed, in the moment, to be everlasting, the fact of life and banal reality becoming, somehow, a vague predicament we might find ourselves in but probably not. Night and day came in went and we laughed on, touching in between important scenes of Game of Thrones.

I miss wasting time with you. Waking up to your face, anticipating me, missing me somehow. The newness of it was so intense, so loveable- I’ve never felt so desired, so deserving of something huge. To be alone, with you, pants-less, spent after five rounds of fucking, slightly drunk and fully carefree… how did those days pass so quickly? How didn’t I realize they were? I came to know you so much during that unexpected winter break. We exchanged ourselves with one another so much that I wonder now if there’s anything left about me that will take you by surprise. Those gray winter days were unburdened: no comfortable annoyance towards one another, no predicting one another’s reactions because we’ve come to know our bad habits, no sighs of exhaustion, no crying. Just me, high, walking out of Subway to the thick onslaught of snow, sticking my tongue out and twirling, and you, watching me, shaking your head. That shaking of the head. Those prolonged glances. I miss those. Even when you show up at my apartment, finally my boyfriend, with flowers and a bag full of all of my favorite things, even when you’re on my couch with me and my cat is in-between us, even when my heart is so full I think it might burst, I wonder if anything will ever be more beautiful than those gray days when we were something better than ourselves.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s