This has been happening for a couple months. I wake up, turn to my window, and just glare at that stupid blue lamplight that keeps me from going back to bed. It must not have been there when they built the house. If it was there, it’s funny to me to think that the guy who drew the plans never took into consideration the most uncomfortable feature of the house. That’s the only thing that bugs me in this whole place. He totally ignored the streetlamp, and now I can’t.
But I'll be fine. Tonight’s been a little different. I still woke up too early, but when I turned to look out the window, I saw that beautiful blonde head lying on her hand that’s spread out on my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, and there she was, just laying on me with her unconscious face facing mine. I start to look at her.
She’s got the prettiest face I’ve ever seen, even with her eyes closed. Her symmetrical features looked so adult and refined in the blurry light we were in. Her womanly brow kept furrowing every half-minute or so. It was weird watching her in this state, having not seen her for so long. I got to look at what her insides were feeling without her even knowing it. What should we do tomorrow? I couldn’t just leave a note for her in the morning telling her I’d call when I had the chance.
Work is going to be so busy tomorrow. With all the blueprints I have to draw between the meetings and the sight I have to oversee for the new condo building. How would I be able to focus now at work, just knowing that she was back to see me, maybe for good? What would she be okay with? I’ve asked myself these questions before. I guess I’ll have to ask her. It’s pretty clear to me, especially since last night, that what little I remembered about her has changed. I know I still love her though.
I still love her. That decision has been one fact that hasn’t changed. All the others have. There is no rule, no absolute except for my love for her; not one thing that has been half as true. My marriage was factual until it became false, but I guess that was my fault. My job, I have always questioned it, in every aspect, and come up with unreliable rebuttals to ease my piece of mind. My dog decided that he wasn’t even mine. I can’t even say that she’s been mine, all I know is that I’ve loved her all this time, and I am so glad she’s lying here.
I attached so many wishes to this house. When I drew it, I thought it was a fact that I would be living in it forever with my wife. My dreams were faulty, just like my plans. Ever since that big change, my sleep has been interrupted by the blue light from that streetlamp. But now my little lady's back, and when I helped her carry her hello-kitty bags into the house yesterday, she smiled. After I read to her last night, she hugged my neck and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and she wasn’t scared to ask me for my company after she had a nightmare.
Her blonde hair hits her small, round shoulders when she’s standing up, but right now its fanned it’s way across my chest like her fingers have. I get to sit here and watch her. Her tiny head moves up and down with my breathing. As she moves, her skin shimmers beautifully in that blue lamplight that's kept me up. If it wasn’t for that light, I wouldn’t be able to see her glowing now, in the most natural and gorgeous state she’s ever been in. Her little ears were lulled to sleep by that strong drum-pulse that comes from in between my ribs. She doesn’t know yet that she’s the drummer.
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