SUITCASE

SUITCASE

WRITE A POST IN RESPONSE TO TODAY’S ONE – WORD PROMPT.

As I pack my suitcase the realization that you are not here sinks in. This journey I am embarking on I must take alone. I still feel your loss when I lay my head on your pillow at night it still smells of cologne and man. I touch it now, it is still warm as if you have just risen.

I turn back to the closet to get more clothes and stub my toe on the matching suitcase to mine. I stare at it for long moments as a tear escapes my eyes. It appears to be mocking me your suitcase as if to say, “Ha! Ha! I’ll never be filled again.” Sorrow overtakes me and I collapse to the floor. Trembling from the sobs that now vex me.

I sit here for long moments trying and failing to regain control of myself. I know you are gone, you have been gone for months.Yet, until this moment, this moment with your suitcase. I really didn’t want to believe it.

Suddenly I am angry, angry at you for dying so young, angry at myself, and most of all angry at that damned suitcase, for making me miss you so. I kick it to the back of the walk-in closet (out of sight out of mind) but instantly regret it. The sorrow returns with a vengeance eating away the anger until there is nothing left but an empty shell of who I once was.

A horn beeps outside I begin to snap out of it and collect my things and head out the door. I know now after that little meltdown I need this vacation. I need to get away from all these ghosts in this house and finally enjoy myself. A small smile appears as I shut the front door this will be good for me I tell myself yet again.

I climb in the taxi that is going to take me to my destination. I gaze out the window as we begin to pull away. One last tear escapes me as I say goodbye to you and that damned suitcase…

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