Que Sera, Sera...

Heavy not only with child, but with a weighty grief of true love that will never be, I feed my son a breakfast of peaches and milk while I pick at the brownie pan with a fork. Later, I crumple to the floor while my son pats my head. He wants me to play puzzle games with him, but I cannot. I wonder if I have any will to live. I put a few puzzle pieces together as I question the meaning of life, and how so many wise people have likened it unto a puzzle. I wonder if the missing piece to my puzzle will ever fall into place. I drag myself slowly up from the floor and explain to Jonah that I must do something. I must get over this loss that isn't a loss - but that has carved out an empty hole in my heart just the same. I must get dressed. I must use a variety of cosmetic concoctions to paint a happy look on my face. I must play my Cat Stevens Pandora station while doing so.

Big mistake.

As I splash cool water onto my face I listen to the words of Bill Withers, singing so sorrowful and low - Ain't no sunshine when she's gone / and this house just ain't no home - and my reply: I know, I know I know I know...

How is it possible to lose something you never had? To love something that was never yours? Oh, but that could have been yours - so terribly close to becoming yours.


I lost a couch this morning.
I found it on craigslist yesterday. It was beautiful in it's chocolate brown bonded leather. It paired so nicely with the included matching ottoman. It would have fit so many of our friends and family. In fact, it was so perfect and such a magnificent deal that I listed my own sectional the minute I saw it. Our sectional was soon after claimed by a nice Hispanic couple, and despite my promise to beat any other offers, my future couch was claimed by some bum that will neither appreciate it nor treat it with the love and respect it deserves - I'm sure of it.

He's probably sitting on it, farting on it, letting his dogs and cats shed their disgusting winter coats all over it, smoking on it. Oh, it is too much for me to bear. That couch and I would have made such a beautiful home together. I would have paired her with only the cutest of throw pillows, I would have draped a blanket over her back. I would have gently rubbed her arms in gratitude as I watched my family enjoy her. It would have been perfect.

Oh cruel world!

To tear from me my one and only dream!

To rip away my bonded leather kindred heart!

To leave my house couchless, when guests are arriving in less than a week!

But from this I must learn - or continually wallow in self pity and visions of what might have been. I must press on. I must refresh the page. I must keep searching.


Though there be no sunshine at present, I will look for silver linings.
I hope, my friend, that you're happy.