"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  I asked why he smelled so good, and he responds, "I put on deodorant when I got off work." It isn't so much how he smells in that moment. It is that I know I will smell like him when I go home.   I love the way he smells, and when I don't get it for a few days I begin to miss it. Sad thing, is that I don't realize I miss it until I smell it (him) again. But that's the way it is isn't it...we don't truly realize what we miss until we experience it again.   I consider myself pretty lucky. I have a guy who when I spend 4 out of 5 days being moody and downright bitchy still has the audacity to text me and tell me he misses me. All I can think about is the last conversation we had on the phone. You know...the one where I riled on him and laid into him because I was feeling moody. Yeah, that one.   And although he has no problem calling me out on it, he would rather spend our time talking about the good parts than the negative. I've been a mess late

  *whew* when does it end? When do we come to the moment when we look back and see that 5 years have come and gone? Now. Now is that moment. For the last 5 years, I have lived without the one person who made, in my life, the greatest difference. And sometimes, I wonder if I have lived up to his expectations.   I don't know. I can only imagine, but I have a feeling that at some deep level, in his heart, he would be proud. But, who is to know. I feel that I know more than most what he would be proud of, and in my deepest struggles, he was still proud of me.   Tonight, after 5 years of his death, I got to hang out with my friends. I got to be with the people who held my heart and soul above water. And that has made all the difference. I am so blessed. I am blessed beyond measure.   So what next? Only me. I am next. It is my life that must be weighed and hopefully not found wanting. It is my life that must take the next step. I can't imagine sometimes living without him, but I h

  It happened without warning, which I imagine is how it usually does. He came into my cubicle, and without much pretense: smiled, asked me how I was, told me to have a good rest of the day, and walked out.   I didn't really recognize it. He walked in later, smiled, touched my shoulder, heaved a sigh of slight exhaustion, tilted his head, and gave me that he look he gives me. Ya know, the one that says all he can't say because he can't figure out why he likes me so much...and then walked out.   I usually see him down the hall. I have the ability to now recognize him anywhere. The way his shirts cling to his thick arms, the way his pants bunch at his shoes cause they are too long and he wouldn't take them back when I told him it would be a good idea. The way his arms are covered in those silly paper sleeves. It is like they are covering a secret only I know. The way his gait shows such determination and focus. I can recognize all of it. It's the small things.   Wa

  There is a difference between suffocating and being comfortable. And although it is a very fine line, the distinction is blaring. It's like doing something for the first time. There is a moment of not being able to breathe, yet feeling comfortable in your own self to know your limits. Now, whether that analogy made sense, there is a difference.   A month ago tomorrow, I said yes to being involved with a really good man. Someone who has shown me true adoration at the expense of being mushy. Someone who has shown me respect and vulnerability. Someone who has no desire but to fulfill my desires. But, in an instant we became comfortable.   Before I make an ass of myself, I do realize that this is what a lot of people want: a complete comfortable lifestyle. For me, I needed the excitement. And without thinking I found myself in a rut with this one. I found myself craving something else. Not someone else. Just something else.   I will be a testament to someone who hates confrontatio