I took my daughter to a baseball game.
We had an amazing time.
My mind drifted to you.
I imagined you both there,
the girls laughing, dancing,
sharing a jumbo dog.
I worked from home on a Saturday morning,
made lunch, then jumped in the pool with my daughter.
My mind drifted to you.
I imagined you both there,
the girls swimming and playing
as we laughed and kissed
like no one was watching.
I went to bed late that night,
arms wrapped tight around a stuffed sloth.
My mind drifted to you.
I imagined you there,
wrapped in my arms,
wrapped in me.
Sunday morning, I installed a water fountain,
balanced the pool chemicals,
jumped in to cool off, alone.
Backyard surround playing all the songs we've ever shared.
My mind drifted to you.
I imagined your laughter, your teasing,
your touch.
Seen. Known. Loved.
I tried to outswim you.
But the water pulled my shorts,
and my thoughts pulled me further,
to a place where you were already waiting.
Swimming naked in a whirlwind,
of intoxicating thoughts of you.
I played the drums today,
a familiar rhythm rooted in muscle memory.
My mind drifted to you.
I imagined life with you in it,
filled with wonder, love, respect, and laughter.
You're my first thought before waking.
My last before sleep.
And every heartbeat between.
And when I think of you,
it isn’t just thought.
I imagine.
You’re here.
In every way.
I’ve tried to let go.
I’ve tried to forget.
But the more I run from you,
the more of you runs through me.
In my head,
in my heart,
in this life I imagine,
you're already here.
Safe.
Loved.
Joyous.
Free.