There are happier days out there. Somewhere. I know that there are, because I’ve seen them.
Nice drives out on a Friday night. After work and a change of clothes. A couple of shots. Maybe a movie. Or dinner at some little place we liked to go to.
Late Saturday mornings spent in bed. Coffee brewing in the kitchen. A good woman making toast and eggs, bringing me a cup while I wait. She’s barefoot, in her panties and a tank top. Her tattoos across her back and shoulders.
No work that day.
Just time. Our time. Time to get back into bed and work up a morning sweat. Time to shower together, our voices echo as we lather one another. Time to steal a kiss in the car while waiting for the red light to turn green.
I’d found those happier days. Now, some mornings, I shuffle up to the bathroom mirror. What I see makes it difficult to believe that I’ll find those days again.
But I open the window. The sky is blue. The air is warm. I run the shower. Soap. Shampoo. And I shave my face. I’m new again.
Ready for something better. Ready for you. Ready for love again.
So the next time you open your window and the sky is grey, please make a wish for me. Send up a prayer. Just in case I’m unable to find those happier days on my own, hope that they might find me. Hope that they’ll find you too.