foretelling.

a dream from 2014. before we knew the ending.

I just woke up from a dream. We were at a party, a backyard barbecue kind of thing. We were sitting in lawn chairs across from each other, about six feet apart. You were sitting next to a man, a grandfatherly character that looked as though he’d lived a bit, seen some things. I was sitting next to a woman. We were talking, the woman and I. I heard the old man say, “She’s beautiful, you know.” I looked at you, then the woman. You were caught off guard and said, “What?” The man points to me and says, “Your wife. She is beautiful.” I blushed and looked away then looked back up at you. You started crying.

Why were you crying? Did you remember a time when you thought I was beautiful?

The days come and go and bleed into years. The faces, they never change, except a new wrinkle here or there. But, as the moments pass, the faces camouflage themselves into the scenery. Exploring inner worlds becomes secondary to the litany of to-do lists, child rearing, and score keeping.

We are strangers to each other now. Familiar strangers.

I’ll never know why you cried, but I know when I closed the door to the backyard barbecue you weren’t with me. I walked home alone.