Letter 1

Dear Ghost,

You might be wondering why you are receiving this letter, fortunately, this is not a “Dear John” letter. Instead, I am going to write these letters to you in hopes that our words and the meaning that is scattered behind them will paint a better picture of our story or at least a story that is worth telling and being able to remember.

It has only been two days since you have left and I am already feeling the solitude and emptiness of this place. I am not sure if this “place” and by that, I mean this actual setting or just this place in my mind. I thought being alone would be more freeing and I could get myself together for us, but it seems more like I'm in a grass field and I can roam freely through the hills until the shock comes back that I am in the field alone again, more noticeable when the moon is roaming in the sky.

It was very quiet these last two days, something I thought I would love. Instead, it is too quiet. I can hear things I didn't think were here anymore. I can hear the wind blowing outside and the birds chirping, Spring is starting to tell its secrets. I can hear the creaks of the stairs as our neighbors climb the steps to go into their homes. A feeling of being home, a feeling I won’t experience for the next 6 months.

I did not realize how my favorite part of the day was you coming home from work, even if I did not let it appear to be so. I couldn’t let your ego get too big and god forbid I ever show any emotions, right? I miss hearing the door beep and lock slide and the door close behind you. The dogs miss hearing it too. Their belly rubs and booty scratches they miss from you the most.

Maybe these letters will serve to show us how far we have come 30 years from now being together, or maybe they will serve as just another moment of life.

On the way to the airport at 4 AM, I tried to shift my conscious state to a state of derealization to get myself ready to see you take those steps onto the airplane and not have a choice of if you come back or not. With everything happening in the world, anytime you leave or I leave, could be the last.

Leading up to the days before you left, I wanted to pretend you were not leaving or try to convince myself it won’t be for that long, but time can be irrelevant and become the devil's advocate. Is 6 months a long time? I guess it depends on how the time has to be spent.

When darkness creeps up on me to end the day, I swear I can hear the walls whispering to me. As I get ready to lay in bed, that only continues to remind me of how alone I am. I thought as people we can not feel “nothing” but I feel it. I feel the space that has now become a part of the room.

The whispers usually grow louder throughout the night, maybe it is the wind or cars driving on the highway, but I am not sure how the sounds know the things that they know. They watch me all day and come out at night. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me or I took the derealization too far and this is just a part of being in the matrix of life.

The mornings are not the same anymore either. The sun shines a little brighter, another season I will get to experience without you. The coffee does not seem to fill the air in the same manner anymore, but still, I make it the same. I pour the hot coffee into my cup and watch the steam rise slowly. Forming different shapes and letters before disappearing into the air again. Maybe the coffee is what is telling the walls the secrets in steam signals.

Even the showers do not feel as warm. The soap does not bubble the way it needs to and the water droplets do not flow across and down my body like a waterfall anymore. The droplets used to want to explore my body, every nook and cranny, and imperfection. Maybe I just miss the feeling of being warmly touched and caressed at night.