Sunday, November 7, 2010

no title for truth

As we stood in the small rectangle of linoleum in front of his apartment door, I tirelessly petitioned against the dismantling of comfort and familiarity.

He continued lifting bags from the floor, trying to ensure only one trip downstairs by having everything in his grasp, and I damn near grabbed it out of his hands to prevent him from throwing it into the complex's dumpster.

Logic was not a factor in me trying to alter the fate of the familiar comforter--of course, instead of throwing it away, he could have washed it and donated it to a shelter, or kept it for future needs. (You never know how cold those Asian nights may get.)

When he yanked the comforter off his floor and said he would throw it away, he yanked another of my heart's strings right along with it. I passively tried to fight for the comforter, simply repeating don't throw it away, instead of asking him if I could take it with me, and give all its old memories a new home.

It seemed too heavy handed to ask for the comforter, but reality is even heavier--for almost two years, that comforter has been our rug every time we've walked into his room. That comforter has seen our many metamorphoses--from familiar strangers, to girlfriend and boyfriend, to exes to lovers and friends. (Yes, you can have both, and no, it's not easy.) That comforter has been our platform for some of every event, from inebriated nights, to falling asleep mid-conversation, to tv watching, to playing poker and playing with each other.

That comforter is a part of his room, which is an extension of him, and to see him remove it was like a crumbling of a beloved puzzle. In the comforter's absence, sets in the hard-hitting reality that sooner than I would like, his room will be empty, and his place in the routine of my life will alter.

The removing of the comforter was the breaking of the glass--from here on out, pieces will continue to fall.

As he walked to the dumpster, comforter in hand, I watched him turn the corner, and silently, my heart began her goodbyes.

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