Sluice

dear spydr…

you know what i love about the shower? absolutely everything. i love getting into the hot stream of water. i love the smell of the steam. i love the way it slides over my back, and the way it sounds gurgling down the drain, washing away the grime and the grit. water is so healing…i miss the beach. i live about an hour and a half from the beach – the furthest i’ve lived from the water in almost 20 years. i can’t smell the salt, or hear the gulls, or see the waves…it feels wrong. so i get into the shower…and i let that be the water that heals me. i hide in there, and cry in there, and think in there, and stare off into the…tub…lol…in there. i stand under the water with my head tipped back and my eyes closed, and it mixes with my tears, and carries them away, with the grit and the grime. and sometimes, for just a few minutes, i feel okay. almost whole again. then i step out into the steamy bathroom, and dry off, and head back into the reality of life as it is right now. but…i always go back to the water. am i moana?

i got up pretty early this morning – 6 ish. but i got a few solid hours of sleep, so i guess that’s ok. i didn’t take the melatonin last night – i drank wine instead. oops. hah! but it let me sleep. the problem with the red wine for me is that it always gives me a headache. it was pretty strong this morning, but i took some tylenol…and of course, the hottest shower ever absolutely helped. so did spraying myself with my perfume. it always calms me when i smell like myself. i thought of the first time you caught the scent (my signature scent), at chit chats, and suddenly, i could hear your appreciative groan in my head, and had the pleasure of rembering the pressure of your lips on my neck. i feel like there’s a neverending well of missing you inside me. sometimes, i stare into the well, and hope to see the bottom, but i never do. it’s so big…this feeling is so damn big.

now, i’m out here in the living room, sipping a very large, very hot cup of coffee. cup. hah! more like a half gallon, i swear. i have been living on coffee and nicotine and cannabis these days. not quite exclusively, but close. i should probably do something about that. eventually. i’ve got bar rescue on, and it makes me laugh. i love john taffer. he is the gordon ramsay of the bar industry.

i wish i had something more to say. typing these letters to you really makes me feel better, and helps me through some of the harder memories. every time i close the window into this world, i just want to open it again, and tell you more of my thoughts. you always said you liked to hear my thoughts…and you were right. i never had trouble talking to you. i did warn you i was better at writing them out, though. i bet you never figured i’d write THIS much.

everyone always says that the world is a darker place, when they lose a loved one. i get it. it feels like you lit the entire world – or maybe just my entire world? with everything that’s going on these days…i don’t know. it just seems appropriate that the whole country shut down when you died.

it’s raining and grey outside. certainly not helping my mood, but that’s all right. today is going to be me, attempting to get some groceries. i wish i could see into the store before i head out there. i also need to stop at the wine store for mom, and maybe pick something up for myself, too. we’ll see. i’ve been careful, i promise. i learned my lesson when robby died – no more crawling to the bottom of a bottle of vodka. that didn’t serve me well at all…and it wouldn’t be respectful of us either. i have indulged — three times — but i have not done what i did before. our circumstance was a little different, too. we were just getting started, babe.

okay, before i get all maudlin, i’m going. i love you, and miss you, so damn much, spydr.

lolak

…sugarz