March 18, 2013

I want to share everything with you, from my collection of unfinished water bottles to the piles of ash that collect on the side tables and makeshift ash trays. From dental floss to dirty dishes, old leftovers in the fridge to toilet paper rolls. Kisses before work, your morning coffee, trivial details about our days - I want to share everything with you. I wish all my things were in the cabinets, on the shelves, in the dresser, on the counter instead of in an overnight bag. I wish there were pictures of the two of us in nice frames all over the house. I wish you’d ask me to turn up the volume on the TV or the radio and I’d make sure it was on an even number, just for you. I wish I could bother you on your day off and ask you to dig my car out of the snow and I wish you’d bang on the bathroom door when I’m singing in the shower because I’m using up all the hot water. I wish you’d cook us dinner and I’d wash the dishes in return, and the next day we’d argue over who has to take out the trash. I wish you were there when I was putting on makeup in the morning, telling me how much you wish I wouldn’t. I wish you’d ask me to shave your neck every few weeks, making me tremble a little every time, warning me not to mess up. I wish I could bring home all those things you never have and don’t think you really need like band-aids, cold medicine, tissues, and lotion. I want to sit around while you’re challenging your friends to some video game and I want to go downstairs to do laundry together so we don’t get scared. I want to know all your stories first-hand, laugh and finish your sentences when you tell them at parties. I want to share in every hardship, every triumph, every laugh, and every (almost) tear. I want you to be the one I come home to.