Senseless

Senseless

I have come to feed my addiction. I can no longer control my cravings, the ache deep inside of me.

Daily I have tried to restrain my need by performing each task as if it is a religious ritual. The egg is boiled for exactly three and a half minutes, the bread is toasted to a light golden brown. The bed is made with hospital corners. The laundry is done on Mondays, groceries are bought on Tuesdays and Fridays. I watch the news at six.

Tears at six thirty.

Family and friends come and urge me to join them. A movie, or the opera? A class about watercolors, or a round of golf? I smile, slip into my shoes, put on my coat, and pretend to enjoy what’s in front of me.

But how can I enjoy myself when you are not here? Not here to give your irreverent comments, your whispered snarks, and your insightful observations. Without you, my life is grey. Whatever I do, wherever I go, whoever I see, there are no colors to admire, no music to hear, no joy in my laughter.

Please don’t tell anyone, I fear I may have lost my mind when I thought I saw you yesterday. I eagerly crossed the street to embrace you, but you weren’t there. Though the sidewalk was teeming with people, it was devoid of you. I even stepped inside our favorite coffee shop. Dejected I went home, kicking myself for forgetting that you are gone. Last night I heard a knock on the door. Hoping it was you, I rushed to answer, but it was just the wind.

Today I will gorge and fill myself with you. Here, in our special place, our sacred spot where I have preserved you.

I will battle the wind while I cross the seashell path that meanders through the dunes. I’ll sidestep clusters of sea grass that have learned to bend before the wind. Faded white clouds streak across a washed-denim sky while the pale horizon frames the late-afternoon light. Bleached wooden steps, smoothed by wind and sand, sound hollow underfoot. Dozens of once-colorful cabanas are locked tight, waiting till summer.

The sea rolls whitecaps over undulating steel. The light makes diamonds dance on liquid pewter. The surf surges and retreats taking everything only to regurgitate odds and ends. The waterline is made of strands of decaying kelp and man-made litter. The rare blob of amber gris hides in driftwood. Pipers scurry back and forth endlessly searching. Crabs sidle looking for a home. Sea gulls argue overhead. The wind and surf throb with their own constant rhythm.

Blind, deaf, and numb to everything, I single-mindedly focus on my destination. The one lone, faded red cabana set apart from the rest. The only place I know I can be alive, where I will let my senses flourish.

Here, I once again will close my eyes and let your special scent surround me as it mingles with the suntan lotion you rub over me. The ever-present brine is the sharp background to the uniqueness that is us.

I have longed for the warm sand and the slide of your hands, slick with oil, caressing my skin. I have hungered for the moist sea breeze and the touch of your lips nibbling at my ear extorting a delicious shudder. I have dreamed of the heaviness of the sun’s warmth and the weight of your body on mine. I have yearned to rub against the terry towel and feel the texture of your thigh. I wish to feel the moist heat only you can evoke.

I will strain to hear your hoarse whispers of sweet nonsense on the surge and sighs of the wind. In the roar of the incoming tide, I will listen for our groans as we remember and reach for what is to come.

Finally, I will turn and allow my eyes to feast on you. I will bask in the brilliance of your smile, the longing, promise and question in your eyes. The dimple on your right cheek and that little scar near your left eye that are permanently printed on my memory. I know the size and breadth of you.

I will touch your skin, rub, and warm my hands on the heat of your chest. I will smile and I scrape my nails across your back. I'll watch your eyes dilate and share your pleasure from my touch. I won’t wait to part my lips and taste you again, savoring the familiar comfort of your kiss, the sweetness of your breath. Then I will indulge and kiss and lick the salt off your silken skin while I feel your heart race in rhythm with mine. My breath will catch, and I’ll cry your name when you touch me. I’ll reach for you, guide you home and let you fill me, let you hold me, rock me.

While I cry. While I wish. While I miss you.

Later, after I have dried my tears, after I have relived my memories, after I have tucked you away and before I turn back toward the wind-swept dunes, I will carefully secure our cabana. Then, and only then, will I scream with the gulls to release my anguish. I will plead with the wind to blow the pain of losing you from my mind. And I will beg the moon to urge me on, to make me stay ahead of my past. I will make the crunch of the seashell path drown out the call of your voice.

When I come home, I will force myself to move on. I may scramble my egg, burn my toast, and do laundry any day I wish. Thoughtlessly I will sit through silly shows or pretend to read trashy novels. I will go out and meet new people, practice smiling and listening to new voices, I will hear new music and taste new foods.

We both know that you will always be a part of me, your voice will be a whisper in my ear and your smile embedded in my heart. I will imagine your hand holding mine and guiding me while I practice living. I must relearn to laugh without reservation, feel emotions without pain, see colors without blinders, live and enjoy each day like you taught me.

Until the next time my need for you overwhelms me, then please, I beg of you, don’t tell anyone of my addiction.