Breathing out a little

I am back in my youth, sitting at the bottom of the pool and waiting. Waiting as long as I can, holding my breath in, letting it out little by little, to squash the panicking feeling that builds in your heart before you suffocate. The little breaths make you think you're breathing. So I sit here indian-style, at the bottom of the pool, waiting to breathe.

Things I never knew I'd miss about being away from Alison:

1) Magazines I have no interest in looking at filling baskets around the house. These include: Southern Living, Real Simple, People, the occasional Cosmopolitan, Marie Claire, Style, and Lucky.

2) Walking into the bathroom and pulling the plugs from the sockets to the curling iron and blow dryer. I always try to remind her that it may burn the house down, but she does leaves them heaved into the wall anyways. It's not that I miss that she does this, but it's more I'm scared that the one time I don't unplug them, the house will burn down. I miss being able to ensure safety.

3) Her honking at me whenever I walk in front of the car. She reaches over and presses the horn, effectively scaring the bejeezes out of me. The horn is a lot louder when you're a foot away from it. I even sort of miss the fact that she gets pissy with me when I honk at her (so I'm not allowed to retaliate anymore).

4) Losing fights. I'm always the first one to give in. Especially when I'm right. It makes me feel like I am making a tiny sacrifice for our love. Martyrdom is a word.

5) Water glasses by the bed. I don't do the water glass thing when she's not around. Alison requires a tall glass of cold water by her bedside in order to go to sleep. She rarely drinks it. So by the end of the week, we have six glasses of water lying around, half-full and room temperature. Not really sure why I miss this. I think it's because i miss having things around that I don't like.