All Those Familiar Pains

With the sounds of the Sox in the background, I sit in his chair and plug away aimlessly at my job - remotely, on a Sunday night, because that's what being me in my job means. It means working when everyone else is resting while listening to the Sox game being televised in the next room. And I remember so vividly when he was here, working like this with the game on and so much distance between us and I have no idea why I couldn't bridge that gap to make it better.

I was thinking, during my Sunday Target run, of him with her doing all the mundane things we had to do for so many years. How, after a while, our relationship was made up of all those mundane things, but how much more I loved them because he was there to share them with.

And now I go through all the tasks, I do all the work, I sit here night after night alone in this house and I have no clue how I'm ever going to rebuild...