I remember he used to come back from his training late in the evening and I used to go downstairs, out the garage and the townhouse gate to meet him. It used to be so cold and I used to wait there in shorts and his cardigan or jacket; Hoping I wouldn’t miss his first sight right when he comes round the corner on the road behind our home.
Honestly, I never felt the feeling of ‘being home’ until I met him. Coming home every day to him, knowing nothing else mattered except for the fact that I get to see him, hug him, kiss him after a long, exhausting and possibly frustrating day. I finally realized ‘being home’ was that cozy comfortable feeling where you could be ugly and wonky without being judged, and mine was with him.
Now, whenever I look at him and all the storms with lightning and thunder have died. It’s just us staring at each other’s virtual videos wishing to have just one more night with each other where we could hold each other, feel each other’s presence, hold hands while sleeping together and kiss good morning just one last time. We were living any young couples dream that turned into a nightmare, the one we couldn’t just escape by opening our eyes.
Unpacking the suitcase after 3 months, I found a gray hoodie and a black cardigan. I took a whiff and remembered that old body odor. The odor I used to wake up next to. The odor of the man I love so dearly. I wore the black cardigan and cried for as long as I can remember. I miss him.