I let the knowledge that you won’t be at the airport to greet me when I return to England after my travels, wash into my ears and eyes and nose and mouth. You will never get to hear about my next heartbreak or my last love. You won’t stand beside me on my wedding day. Or feel the weight of my first child in your arms. We won’t grow old together like you hoped. You will never feel my cool, wrinkly hand in yours. The years which we have lost and continue to lose, lie like thorns in my palms. But I pluck them free. Toss them aside. And choose to focus on the years we did have, letting them
...more
