Workdays

Going to work is harder with you gone. For so many reasons. Surprisingly, dealing with customers doesn't make it worse--even when I have to explain what happened. That's healing in it's way; not talking about you is harder.

Its the little things I miss. Not just your movements inside me, not just having a reason to sing under my breath when I'm working. Sometimes it feels like there's no light at the end of the tunnel. I don't hate my job, but I was ready to take a nice long break while I got to know you. Now there will be at least ten months--probably more--before that kind of break is coming again. And you won't come with it.

Things just seem pointless some days. My life's work--smiling sweetly and serving coffee. My life has meaning, but my job doesn't. And without you, I question even that much.

I try to just get through it. It's not so bad, my job. My life. But it's so much emptier now. I ache inside and out. I miss you so much.