I no longer like living by myself, and that is your fault, because you're not here to be grumpy in the mornings. every day I could turn to my right and find you, nudge my way onto your chest, and you would kiss the top of my head with your eyes still closed. one good thing about alberta is that the mountains are beautiful there, mountains that always made me want to go faster, run faster, climb, but lying there with you, watching the sun make shapes on the bed, felt the same as being thirty thousand feet up high, where the air is thinner.

I was always taking mental pictures of my legs wrapped around you. you would sing tom waits and britney spears within the same hour. I got mad because you didn't kiss me right when people were around. you were so proud when you remembered what kind of tea I like in the morning. I finally figured out how to take off your belt with fumbling hands, and anytime the cat was around, you would pick her up and put her in my lap.

sometimes we held each other  in front of mirrors, as if to see what home looks like, and I would think to myself, remember this, always remember this.

passports and suitcases always make me nervous, now.

when you walked out of the airport I watched you go, and I was shaking. I understood when you said that it's all okay, that we've done this before, but I wasn't ready to do anything but stay. I took off my jacket and my shoes and I placed everything I had in little white bins, and I kept my head down and didn't look at anyone, but I'm sure every person who saw me knew that I had left behind someone I loved that day.