happy valentine's day

"i have dreams of you," he says. "you're out walking the dogs. or at the store. or sometimes you're laying in bed with one of your headaches."

he rocks his chair forward.

"you were so beautiful, with your hair fanned out on the pillow like a flower. i miss the delicate curve your wrist bones when you'd press your thumb and middle finger to your temples to stop the pounding in your head. you'd be completely still, tangled in the white sheets, like a body at the morgue come unexpectedly to life."

he rocks his chair backward.

"you'd lay there all day, wouldn't you? cradling your head in your hands, fingers crawling on your face like spiders to ease the throbbing. you'd barely eat anything but crackers but you'd still smile at me when i stood in the doorway watching you. years spent like this, the occassional headaches that left you bed ridden."

he rocks his chair forward.

"and then you stopped being here. you spent your headaches in the hospital, with nurses and doctors and tubes and beeping screens. the white sheets weren't the same as the ones here. they were too starched and stiff. you said you missed our matress and the smell of the pillow. i went home to get it for you and when i came back you were gone and the doctors said their 'sorry for your losses' and then i signed papers and they put you in a box and into the dirt."

he rocks his chair backward as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"happy valentine's day, honey."