“Hours are slow and weeks rapid in their vacancy.” – Donald Hall

Here I am, two years later feeling like today was once again the day you died but 48 calendar pages have flipped since the day my world shattered.

Flash! I saw a photo of us, and “Zoom”, I have time-traveled back to 2013 in an instant and here we are in Taos with the hot wind blowing my hair as we gaze into the depths of the Rio Grande Gorge and curly horned rams head-butt each other with shuffling hooves in the rugged turf and we all hear the loud echoing crashes of their hollow horns competing for dominance where they met each other in that field by the Bridge.

Back to work, in front of my computer. I am in 2023, doing my job.

I look at the calendar. Today should have been our 25th wedding anniversary. I sigh deeply. The thought hits me that I’m so unlikely to ever get to have a 25th wedding anniversary in my lifetime now, even if I remarry. I cry. Why? It is just a number. I am sad it can’t be with you; that’s heartbreaking, my love. And it probably won’t ever happen for me at my age with anyone. Not unless I live to be ancient, that is.

It seems to take forever for that microwave dinner to heat up. Too much time to think. My mind wanders. But the seconds are still slowly whirring by as the platter spins and the timer counts down. So slow, that kind of time.

It is now two years since you died; how can that be? Two years, 48 calendar pages, 104 weeks – all so vacant without your bigger-than-life presence, your love, your laughter, your music, your heart.

Woosh – time-traveling again, I am! I am seeing all those memories of our 20th anniversary now. I am back in Eureka Springs, AR with you for that most wonderful trip we had together. We even time-traveled while we were there! We visited the past – two decades prior – and had a great time sharing those 20-year-old memories together.

Thank you for leaving me with that gift.

Time travel is restricted somehow or not working like I want it to. Did I break it? Did it break me? It’s so Odd how it isn’t letting me go forward very far at all. I can barely even see tomorrow.