Fuck. You. You're gutless.

The last time he picked up the phone to call was about a month ago. The night before i moved out. He wanted to ask me to please not take the leather couch. or the flatscreen tv. and to tell me i could leave some clothes behind if i wanted.

since then, he's forwarded articles he thought i might like to read. he sent me a note to proclaim he's "lost without me to help him remember what nights 'our' shows are on tv" and today, he emailed to ask if i'm free for dinner one night this week. he'd like to "catch up"

I don't remember what his voice sounds like, exactly. But I do remember that one year ago, today, we were sitting in a lighthouse in vancouver, eating mussel stew and talking about the old couple next to the fireplace. honeymooners speculating about our future; wow. that'll be us someday.

Things I haven't had time to analyze as symbols but might when I'm finished with work deadlines:

that i dropped my ipod on the floor and it smashed to pieces. destroying my entire music library in one butterfinger slip. it was a wedding gift.

that i don't remember going to sleep on saturday night but learned in the morning that my mom tucked me in, asked me if i wanted a glass of water. that i think it's the only time in my life i've ever blacked out. it was our anniversary.

that my sister sent me a package in the mail today, goodies from target. she picked out things that complete the set i started for our home a week before i found out about the affair. the down throw i really wanted. a giant coffee mug to match. that we haven't seen each other in too long but she still knows how we'd shop together at target.

that two years ago, i got engaged on the jewish new year. one year ago, i got married on the jewish new year. this jewish new year, i got a kick ass pair of new boots and a new ipod. that technically my family just got smaller but i've never felt a bigger swell of love.