how long, so long

I stand in the doorway and look at my bed...which is littered with clean laundry. Underneath the piles of socks, underwear and a few sweaters strewn about there is my neatly placed bedding.

I can't remember how long it has been since I've slept in my own bed.

Which means it has been a long time.

Sleeping on the love seat, the floor...means that I'll get up on time. But now I'm walking around with a constant, wrenching back ache and knees that throb from being scrunched into too small a space. Last night a draft that came in from the balcony door kept me up for half the night. Standing in the doorway I seriously miss my bed. Seriously.

I spend most of the morning hunched over the coffee table, furiously sipping coffee and conducting phone interviews. And I keep thinking: SPRING. The stories are starting to pour in... My editor sent an email the other day letting me know that he may be looking into launching another newspaper in the area - which means new exposure. I can't wait for the air to smell and taste clean and to get up early, jump in my car and drive around. Interviewing. Reporting.

I rush through a shower so I can hit Starbucks before work. Outside it's 30 degrees, but it feels as refreshing as 50. I wish I were driving to the gym instead of work. I'd walk my miles, hit the bike, the rower, the ellipticals until my body ached with movement. I'd jump in the car and sit in the warm glow of Barnes & Noble until they threatened to close. Crawl into my bed and read until I fell asleep.

I would anyway.

"I put a record on/put it on and sing along with you..." sings Unkle Bob.

And sometimes a song catches me just so...and I think of you. It can't be mainstream. Something indie, something unique. Something that reminds me of the coffee place with a narrow shape and dark wood paneling and the beans sitting in open barrels. It was so dark in there. I never got to show it to you. It was my favorite place. For just a short moment in a place and in a time - you belonged to me and I didn't even know it. I see it in other women now. They feel this...connection when they turn the corner and see their husbands, their boyfriends.

You and I had that a lot. Around the corner moments. Around the corner into blue eyes and a square jaw and a bunch of stuff you wanted to tellme. You were my first connection. We had discussions, not banter. You shook your head at my coffee addiction and I suggested you quit smoking.

"And I wish I could see you/Across over seas/And I wish I could be with you/But I'll always believe/...I gotta hold it down/don't let it show"

I like those moments. In the car. When I want to be somewhere else. Just for a minute.

Can't hold on to them too long.