The Emptiness left behind

You'd think I would appreciate it,

the break from the constant bickering.

Last minute calls for a ride

or a frustrating run to the store for something unplanned.

You'd think having afternoons and weekends to myself

would be a welcome change.

No more questions from friends

"are you sick?"

and having to explain

"no, my voice is just hoarse from all of the cheering,"

embarassing you with my excitement

while watching your meets and matches and games.

"He takes up so much space,"

I would often say about you,

your presence sometimes consuming all of the air in the room

and so much of the space in my heart

and guiding so many of my thoughts.

(Bruh).

Foolishly, I imagined your departure would open up some of that,

that I would learn to let you go,

reassemble the emptiness left behind

like a person repurposes a room.

But what I'm learning to understand

(and this is a process)

is that your space isn't up for grabs.

It's only ever been for you.

As much as you want,

it will always be yours.

So instead, we will work on ways to reimagine that space together,

reinventing how you fill it

your space in my heart

and your space in my mind,

with calls and texts

and photos and video chats

and laughter

and awkward silence

and questions that are hard to ask on the phone

and things that are hard to say on the phone

and visits

until the emptiness feels more like

an invitation for you to come home

(even if only to that space inside of me)

and less like

you're gone.