Writing Stuffs

Tee-Shirt

Inspired by the song by Birdy

I squint my eyes open to a bright, lit up room from the sun shining through my window. The clock on my night stand says 9:03. I push myself up so that I’m sitting upright and then rub my fists against my eyes. Eventually I reach behind me and grip the sheets, only to pull out a tee-shirt from behind me. I hold it close, recognizing it as yours and so, of course, you were on my mind again. You’re always up by 8:00 because the sun is too bright in your room.

As I sit at my table, spooning cereal into my mouth, I still think about you. I butter my toast and think about how you never really liked toast. Not sure why, but you didn’t.

As I pick apart my orange, putting each small slice into my mouth one at a time, I remember your favorite fruit: kiwi. You liked it because it was weird. Fuzzy on the outside, green and squishy on the inside. You liked how it tasted. You could never eat it, though, without thinking of a small kiwi bird. It always made you laugh.

Even while brushing my teeth, the awful taste of the toothpaste clashing with the orange I ate, my mind wanders to you. The way your perfect, white teeth shone whenever you’d smile at me.

Amongst all of this remembering, I like to pretend you’re thinking of me, too. Thinking about my favorite foods and how you probably think I’m not even awake right now because I usually don’t wake up until 3 in the afternoon.

Walking through my apartment, you’re everywhere. Pictures of us on the walls and in frames on the coffee tables or on shelves. There’s just no getting rid of you even if I tried, not that I want to anyways.

One particular picture is of when we first met. Funny, not many couples have a picture of that. Your arm is around my shoulders and you’re smiling like an idiot, while I just stood there dumbfounded and awkward. I was pretty instantly attracted to you, everyone could tell by the sparkle in my eyes and the way my voice and whole body would shake when I tried to talk to you. What they couldn’t tell, though, was the way my heart pounded inside my chest. Or the way butterflies erupted in my stomach.

They never knew about the way you’d hold my hand, how you’d rub a little circle on the back with your thumb. They never knew how it felt to have your hands rested on my hips as we swayed back and forth. They never knew how your voice sounded scratchy when you’d wake up. They didn’t know that you’d whisper “good morning” in my ear, even if I wasn’t awake yet. Then you’d tell me again when I woke up. They didn’t know how it felt to have your soft, chapped lips against mine, your stubble tickling my face.

“Hey, babe. You might be asleep. Maybe you’re watching a movie. I don’t know. I just wanted to say I miss you and I’m on my way home. Hopefully you’ll get this and you’ll be waiting on the couch with a good movie for me when I get home. Or maybe you’ll be in bed, reading a book and ready for a warm cuddle. Either way, I’ll see you soon. Love you, bye.”

Tears roll down my face as I listen to the last voicemail you left me. I listen to it every day, hoping that one day you’ll walk through that door to find me waiting on the couch with your favorite movie. Or maybe I’ll be waiting in bed, curled up with a good book and waiting for a warm cuddle.

That’s all I do anymore. I spend half of the morning thinking about the tee-shirt you used to sleep in. Then I spend the rest of the day listening your last voicemail, that I never plan to delete, or dialing your number to listen to your voice on the answering machine. It’s a hard life with that basically being my daily routine, but I’m not going to stop. If it’s what keeps me close to you, so be it.