The clock on my bedside table beeps once, then twice, it’s 12:18 pm, and I’ve been awake all night now, still not giving up on my fruitless attempts to put my brain to rest. A child giggles on the street outside, and the voice carries in as clear as ever, a few sunbeams dance across my pastel green sheets and onto my eyes as a light breeze enters through the curtains I’d left open last night. I get up to pull the curtains close in hopes that maybe the darkness would lull my now exhausted brain to sleep, but I catch sight of the children playing in the ground across the street under the midday sun, and I am taken back to the time we once carved our initials in the roots of the big oak that stands guard straight as a sentinel in the middle of the park, I never understood why we did that though, other than that it was your idea and that I would have painted the moon orange if it pleased you, so I took out my penknife and started. You wore your open-toed shoes with the little bows on them, I remember, the same color as the ones the little child across the street has in her hair right now, and your freshly painted blue toes peeked through the front, it was your favorite shade, I remember you calling it electric blue and maybe it was electric, like everything else about you. But oh, you’re not here anymore, so what does it matter if I remember the watermelon scent of your favorite gum, or how you one day aimed to have a collection of all the snow globes in the world, what does it matter if I sleep or wake when every day is the same, stretching on and on, merging into the next, what does it matter if I still have your scarf with the little cats on it, after all this time?

I pull the curtains together so hard that they slightly overlap, and then slump back into bed.

Infinity is a long long time without you.

Image taken from here.




8 thoughts on “Infinity.”

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