Act One - Monday Morning
Woke up - made some coffee - showered - got ready for work - drank some coffee - checked the weather - took out the trash - so busy! - drove to work - got to the office early - returned phone calls - checked e-mail - scheduled training - updated database - took a break - checked mail - answered e-mails - returned another phone call - so busy! - wrote to a friend - researched IT classes - spoke to a vendor - took lunch - researched more IT training - spoke to a vendor - took a break - had a meeting - left office - drove home - took a walk in the park - so busy! - went to see a friend - played cards - drank beer - played more cards - said goodbye - drove home - take the elevator up to my loft - open the door - step inside.
Act Two - Monday Evening
I am alone. My apartment is empty. Quiet. Outside on my balcony, I can hear the fountain that Thor made for me. The soothing sound of trickling water. The night is calm and cool.
I look at a picture of Thor and me wearing cowboy hats. We're laughing in that one. (Oh, to hear him laugh right now.)
I contemplate the word "PATIENCE" etched onto a rock I keep on my nightstand. "I'm trying," I whisper to nobody.
I look at my phone, wishing he'd call.
My loft is devoid of energy. Almost as if nobody lives here. It is a museum after closing hours, and the silence is suffocating me.
The water keeps trickling, but the sound is no longer soothing. It has become monotonous. Nothing moves - not even time.
Waiting to hear his voice, afraid to miss his call, I carry the phone with me everywhere. Into the bedroom, into the bathroom, into the kitchen, out onto the balcony. I look at the sky. I wait.
I can't listen to the water anymore. I can't think anymore. I can't miss him anymore. The night is over. Nobody calls at this hour. Friends who are not lonely have gone to bed. The world is ready for tomorrow, but not me. If I end this day, I admit that today was a day without any word from him.
Giving up, I sink into my bed and will myself to sleep. I attempt to rush the process, wanting to be released from yearning and depression. Tomorrow I can be busy again, and I'll try not to think.