No More Good Days

It's interesting (or maybe horrifying) how something can be both a comfort and a knife to the heart at the same time.


Tea is so completely connected to her in my head. It's comforting to have a cup in the morning, just like we used to do, as if nothing had changed, as if some piece of her were still here with me.

And then I realize that it's just me, standing alone in my kitchen, and that she's not going to come skipping around the corner, or floating down the stairs, asking what movie I think we should see today. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever again.

And suddenly I feel much worse.

But I can't really blame the tea for that.