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Hey, it's just me 

I'm calling because it seems especially dark this morning. 

And I can't find the cat, again

There is one too many empty beer bottles in the bin 

One too many pieces of bad pizza missing from the box 

And one too few pairs of boots by my back door

I'm sure you're busy but I was thinking 

about the night you brought me a sack lunch into the ER 

and all the nurses gushed with jealousy

  

I was thinking about the morning I sat on your back steps not wanting to leave  

The October chill, the November snow,
And the December I met death then I woke you in the middle of the night to tell you all about it

Do you miss the things I do?

Homemade bread and apple slices

Hikes in the pouring rain

Fighting in the middle of the street while pretending we're not

Camping in the desert

Streaking naked through the grass

The smell of the canoe in the hot sun
The sound the tent makes in the wind
The weightlessness of the Wasatch back in the snow

The distant lights of downtown framed in a frosty window at 65 mph

The smell of chlorine and cotton pajamas

The world of Harry Potter spoken in your voice to kids sprawled across our bed

Your New England habits that speak to my soul

Canadian pauses that never fails to trip up my wild west nerves
And yeah, I'm still pissed about the day 3 years ago that you drove us down a rough dead end road in search of a better camp spot when no one but you wanted to keep looking

Do you miss my stubbornness, an inability to seek help

my one trip policy about for hauling in grocery bags- no matter what

the way I wake you by jumping on the bed while precariously balancing 2 mugs of hot coffee 

the smell of cinnamon rolls baking right after I've proclaimed the house empty of food

The awkwardness of 2 adult bodies crammed in our tiny shower

night terrors I can't explain that bring us both to the edge

my inability to give directions

or tell you what is really inside my heart

 Yeah, I'm calling because the house is a disaster

the chickens loose in the yard 

the dogs, one fat, the other old
And after this long year alone I'm afraid I have become both of those things

I know I keep telling you that this isn't working for me
And it's really not

I want to run again down long lost roads until I am too tired to stand

I want to sleep under open skies

Walk pine covered mountains

Fall into the snow

But I was sort of wondering after all this is said and done if you might want to come with me?