She’s traveling.

This morning has been a persistent, disorienting adjustment to normal tasks. Awareness is important. I constantly remind myself not to include her in all the normal little things I do. Just getting out of bed to make coffee is a good example, with the unusual silence, adjustments to the quantity of beans in the grinder, and leaving her cup in the cabinet. Naturally I boiled too much water. I almost retrieved an allergy pill, but she already has them in Houston.

Last night I considered what it might be like for me if for some reason she was gone permanently. Definitely don’t hope for that. But I feel like I would keep the same routines for a very long time, possibly forever. I’d probably always make the bed the same way with her pillows and mine in the same place, put her towels out and wash them all together just to place the pair back on the rack. Maybe I wouldn’t even remove her clothes from the closet. Even now, the thought of moving them makes me cry.