One Weak

Up on the fifth floor I step off the elevator, it's the first room on the left. The familiar apartment that is neither a house nor a home. Back again, not that it was a choice. There are days when I wonder if this was the right choice in the first place. Or maybe that's not quite it, because I don't think this was a wrong choice. I'm just not sure it was the best choice.

I sleep in on Monday. Half the day is gone, the week is half a day shorter. My afternoon swim wakes me up, but I have to control my thoughts while I'm swimming otherwise I miss you. Monday's psych lecture is dreaded every week. Two and a half hours of daydreaming. Freud's idea of subconscious wish fulfillment. Yes, Monday is the worst. I miss you the most on Monday.

Then there's Tuesday, such a long day, no time to daydream in class. But then there's my evening swim and when my focus is gone I can see you clearly in my mind. And then at night, you're right behind my eyelids and I dream of you the clearest on Tuesday.

On Wednesday I fill my day with chores and errands. I make my way through a pile of dishes and laundry. Work is a welcome distraction on Wednesday, and at the end of the day I'm exhausted. I try to forget you the most on Wednesday.

Thursday is my last four classes, and suitcase packing, and a car ride home infused with every song that reminds me of you. But sometimes Thursday doesn't come until Friday, so then sometimes Thursday is the hardest. You are at the foremost front of my mind on Thursday.

And when the weekend comes I am relieved and also anxious, because what do I have to look forward to but a million more Mondays of missing you, Tuesdays of picturing you, Wednesdays of forgetting you, and Thursdays of remembering you.

It amazes me how well I do get through most weeks. I'm caught off guard by my moments of weakness. This week I was weak. Maybe next weak will be different.