“Happy anniversary dear,” his expression is sour like the Bollinger we drink. “Ten years. Regrets?”
I summon my most expensive smile to answer, paid for in tears unshed. I send my smile down our antique oak table, to shine on him like a crystal chandelier; brilliant, cold, fragile.
I hold my champagne up in a toast to him. A toast to my oh so clean life. Clean of need. Clean of want. Clean of children, affection, love.
I miss your dirt. Your dirty face, your dirty hands, your dirty laugh.
I miss you; I missed you.
“None dear,” I respond, barely.
My take? Inspired by the classic work of Charlie Pride.
I remember listening to these records with my Dad. Ah, nostalgia 🙂
Love to hear your thoughts, your comments!