I Would Miss You

      

       If you weren’t here and I was alone- I’d miss a thousand things that you do, that you are. Some of the things that I married you for- but other things that I didn’t know until you became my roommate. My forever roommate.

       I would miss the way you live vicariously through music. The high notes that make your head tilt sideways and the crescendos that make you drum your fingers, harmonizing with the men that have already recorded the song in their studio.

       I would miss your daddy-like care for all the animals. They would be hopeless without you and I would have to disperse them to homes. I don’t know how to change the turtles’ filters, and I always sneeze when I pass out hay to the bunnies. I would miss hearing you talk aloud when you pull a handful of hay out of the bag to stuff in their trays. The way you roll your eyes and huff at them to get out of your way as they are hopping anxiously around your ankles- hungry and always impatient. I would miss you peeking out the window over the sink, taking pictures of the bunnies cuddling or Toby sprawled out basking in the sun.

       I would miss the way you drive slower than me- more cautious, with the music hardly turned up past 10. And when you adjust the mirror higher and mutter, “Shorty.” I would miss the few times I have seen you spurt in hostile remarks at the bikers on the road. How you suddenly care about tax-dollars for bike paths when you are tailing an intense road biker- hunched down and oblivious of our car creeping forward.

       I would miss calling you in quick desperation at the grocery store when I forget my pin number to my debit card or at the bank when the ATM doesn’t like me and I can’t seem to figure out how to work the stupid machine. I would miss your watch over all things bill-paying. If you weren’t here I would have to call the mortgage dude and the electric company and figure out the car payment. I wouldn’t know where to start.

       I would miss Saturday mornings with you. How you always have a hankering for pancakes or muffins or eggs and bacon. I am okay with a bowl of cereal like every other day but your stomach knows the extra time warrants a bigger breakfast. Then you skip lunch.

       I would miss your clean shaven, soft face on Wednesdays and Sundays. The way your skin retains your aftershave and my fingers feel its moisture. I would miss rubbing your head in passing, peeking at the neckline knowing it was me who buzzed the back after you gave yourself your monthly haircut. I would miss hearing you call out “Wife” and you hand me the heavy black razor. It is heavy, shaking and I calculate the neckline and slice a clean line across the bottom.  I try to keep it straight but know you’ll never actually see my 30 second handiwork. I would miss the slightly hairy sink and floor for the following days until I clean the bathroom.

       I would miss your overall cleanliness compared to the rascally-brothers I grew up with. Like the way that you fold your shirt immediately instead of tossing it around. Or clean up crumbs right behind me as I eat in the kitchen. Or host an absolutely astounded face when you push the Swiffer around to collect the dust that was hiding in the corners after I have already swept. “That’s amazing!”

       I would miss your short texts. The way you can type a dissertation as a grammarian but then carelessly use “u” and “ur” in text messages. The way you respond “k”. The way you attempt to be enthusiastic and encouraging by adding an exclamation mark. I always smile because I know that while it’s not normal for you, you are making an effort for me.

       I would miss your excellent communication with me. The way we plan for dinner, talk about meeting for events or layout our Saturday agenda. And if I am ever flustered about what to do, I can rely on you to calmly make a logical decision for me. How do you do that so easily? I would miss the way you listen carefully to me and I rarely have to ask for anything twice. Like the time I was driving back from work in Orlando and needed clothes for Ultimate Frisbee. You met me at the park; bag in hand with every single thing I asked for- down to the hair tie and headband.

       Of course with sports, I would miss your t-shirt and shorts-clad self running around with those arms wagging at your side. I would miss passing to you- feeling trust in you as a teammate. I would miss our natural instinct together, how we can score with no look passes or by timing the sprint exactly perfect into the wide open field. The way you shout instructions to me as I run toward the airborn frisbee, “Left!!” and your guidance helps me. I would miss your amazing long-arm shots down the field where the Frisbee floats gently into the hands of the receiver for the touchdown. I would miss the grim look on your face when your team is down and the fierce determination that follows- the way you sprint forward on offense and guard mercilessly on defense. The way you capitalize on a turnover and line up the throw into the end zone for the win. Nothing gets in your way and the only reason I am angry is if you aren’t on my team.

       I would miss your giddy morning face and your dreary evening face. Your smile at my antics and your sarcasm and wit when I walk right into an opportunity for you to tease me. Your laugh. Your big blue eyes that I look into while we talk, still amazed after all these years at the way they shine and glimmer and pair perfectly with your skin tone and hair color.

       I would miss terribly the scent that you create by the mid-afternoon. When your deodorant wears down and pairs with the sweet smell of your skin and light sweat from the day. I would clutch your t-shirts and hang onto the scent as long as it would hang on to me.

       I would miss your hugs after a long day. How reliable you are. How honest you are, even though you bottle things up and I may not really understand how you are feeling. I would miss being one of the only ones you open up to when the time comes. The waiting through the silence and your stone-face, but then the sweet words and conversation we share as you translate your thoughts into words and sentences. I wait. And I listen. And I learn a little bit more of who you are and how I might try and love you better.

       I would so desperately miss your Bible lessons. The way you become Mr. Blabbermouth talking about DTS professors you listened to, articles you read or theology theories floating around. I would miss drilling you with questions to learn about the culture back in Biblical times or the original language. I would miss sitting in the audience under your study. Your powerpoints. Your lessons. Your silly introductions and convicting conclusions. I would miss the distinct privilege of being able to ask you more questions on the car ride home.

You are here with me today and I refuse to take you for granted. I don’t know how long I get you, but all these things and more; If you were gone, I would miss you.

Related: Kevin and Kim: Rewind to the Beginning