Friday, November 20, 2015


I hate to admit this, but I miss him. I miss the man he was or pretended to be for quite some time.

I miss his smile. It's what first drew me close.

I miss his hugs. He gave me some of the best hugs of my life, with his long, strong arms that wrapped me so tight.

I miss laying my head on his lap as we watched movies on the couch.

I miss his laughter, and how he thought I was probably the funniest person alive.

I miss how much he loved my cooking and would clean up every plate. 

I miss eating meals with him, having an adult around to talk to over dinner, someone that I didn't have to urge urge to use utensils or not throw food on the floor.

I miss his voice, listening to him babble on about stuff I didn't understand, or listening to him sing.

I miss him playing guitar and writing songs for me and the kids. Oh how the kids loved to dance.

I miss having someone to reach stuff up high.

I miss how he could help me fix almost anything.

I miss his texts, his calls, his emails, his letters. 

I miss our adventures.

I miss the hope for all the plans we made together.

I miss my friend. He promised me we would still be friends no matter if our marriage ended or not.

I miss...

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