In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning…
What’s the point of going to bed early if you can’t get a full night’s sleep anyhow? This I wonder at 5:30 am after being awake since 4. I’ve been doing dishes, taking out the trash, cleaning out the fridge, throwing out crap from the cupboard that I’m not going to move once I find a place to move to…and now I’m back at the blog. Surprise, surprise.
Last night I fell asleep early, and the tears hit again. I hope to GOD it’s just PMS but I think I know better. Funny thing is once I clear (or pretend to try to clear) my mind of all the boy chatter…the smoochable nerdy boy, all the crushes, all the once upon a time smooches, all the once upon a time loves and even the newest everyday friends…my head and heart start to grieve.
And I find myself lying in bed thinking about all the wonderful moments in this stupid apartment. I remember how excited Mark and I were to move in here together…how his friends from Rochester helped him start his life with me here in Buffalo for just a few beers and pizza on the porch. All the Wing Chun classes in the front room, how much I loved watching Mark set up an Art Studio in the extra bedroom, all the baking and taste testing, the parties: Back to the Future, New Years Brunch, Birthdays, Holidays, the after work watching of Arrested Development on CBC at 5:30 in the middle room, the rare brunch on the porch, the many, many walks in the neighborhood to brunch on Elmwood.
Sigh. My heart is breaking all over again. Why? Not quite sure…I bet the clearing the chatter has something to do with it. I’m not stupid. I know that filling my mind with many other thoughts and occupations and activities is a defense mechanism against getting hurt. Feeling pain. Grieving.
I don’t like to remember. I just want to move on.