Library night

It might be library night...

I never really could keep up with it. Is it the same night, every week, or more a circumstance of convenience?

Yeah, it definitely could be library night...

The thought comforts me as my hand parts my hair 5 times before my head comes to rest in my palm, against the car window.

We probably wouldn't be talking now, anyway...

I do so miss the talking.

And not even the talking, really, but all the little nuances built into talking;

the anticipation of talking,

that first, long, drawn-out "Heeeyy", that rides out to meet me on the rush of a deep sigh,

oft-used phrases,

words that feel like you....

"Can I ask you a question?"

The smile that never ends, and the laughter.

Good laughter, long laughter, unadulterated, unexpected, and healing laughter.

I miss the joy in laughter.

For the first time in my life, I would rather talk than write. Writing, is after all, all about me. The places I can go are restricted by the confines of my mind, by my experience, by my hopes, and my dreams.

I miss the voice that gently took me places I had never thought to go, but, even more, I miss the wide-eyed enthusiasm as whole new worlds opened up to you through the doorways in my words.

© Copyright 2007-2008 Stacye Carroll