(no subject)
i thought I had my feelings figured out. And then my phone vibrates and its him. Its funny we go days sometimes weeks without speaking, either through emails, texts or on the phone. But we go weeks, and then he sends me a text that reads “I just got finished training in the desert, and I need to hear your voice, return my calls sweet girl. Let me hear the tingle in your voice when you laugh.” That’s what he said when he hadn’t spoken in over a year. He took that memory with him to Iraq, and his trip to Fiji, and it was in the back of his memory when he was on top of the countless girls who gave into his charm. But there I was. My laugh, the way I put my hair up when I eat, the things you never tell a stranger when you describe the one you love. When I talk about K, I don’t say the way he curls up in his sleep, the mole under this right armpit, the way he likes his coffee or his favorite flavor of anything. I don’t talk about how good he looks in green, how tightly he held me the night my father passed, how nervous I get when he calls, or the way he commands my attention. But I guess when you’re put in a life and death situation daily you remember those things about people, you hold onto the memories that make the people you love and live for human. So he takes that memory with him to Iraq and back and forth again three times in total he has been there, for months and months and each time he took my letter. My three page letter that I wrote on the porch of my beach house when I knew he could never be it for me. We could never be 100%, I don’t even know how to describe it. I wrote the letter and I was angry, angry and sad and by the end of it I was telling him I loved him, and ‘goodbye BECAUSE I love you” I knew that if we had tried to make it work, if we had talked through the problems and lasted the years we would have, at the end of it we would be left with ashes and photographs and memories. And if we ended it after he read the letter we could end with summers and long kisses and sleepless night. And he took that letter with him to Iraq. Left the pictures of colleen at home and took my letter and the one photo he had of us, and he lived for me. He told me how he lived for me and fought for me, and kissed girls for years to forget my laugh. That’s essentially what I do, live for K and most importantly now Nate. Living for another human being, but take Nate out of it because he is of my flesh. So its just K, living for K, striving to better myself for K, keeping his name in my mouth, his touch on my body, making every effort to kiss him goodbye EACH AND EVERY TIME. In 5 years I wonder how many times we’ve touched, kissed, loved. But anyway, Miles tells me he loves me and missing my voice. My voice how personal is that?