leon

As I turned left off my street onto a main road, his raspy voice came on for a millionth time, through earbuds, and I began to cry at the opening line. For the millionth time but not in a while.

"I really miss you, I will forever more."

Death has a start point but grief has no end point. 

I believe some divine intersection made me fall in love again. Different? Oh yeah. Less? Oh no. 

By the time I pulled into my usual parking spot at a neighborhood market, I had heard, "Let me say the things I used to say before."

"People are people," she exclaims. Really, Baby? Really?

It is her true belief in the words she says, despite the isolation I feel from choosing her, that gives me strength. I am trusting her to be right. In the end, to be right.

I'm still listening to the song as I turn the car off and step into the June heat.

I grab a cart, pull out my produce list, and entering the store I sing along to them both: "I can't let go of you."




I Really Miss You
Paul Anka/Leon Russell