....Sundays have always been the hardest. Through the ups and downs of my time with Lucky, it was on Sundays that I would miss him most. Today no exception. I find ways to busy myself and stem off the creeping emotion looking to make itself known. I sit at a coffee house and read, I tease my monkey, I clean out the garage, I run to Target to buy things to organize the minimal disarray. Sometimes you come across something and no matter how good you're doing - at least for a tic, a sec, a moment -you feel him again - kissing your cheek, patting your ass, watching you stare off in to space. I found the 1 year warranty I bought for the "all-in-one" fax/copy/scanner I gave him at Christmas - forward it to his roomate I suppose. I find a folder with Baby's veternarian receipts, information on puppy pre-school, and a hand-drawn note to Lucky in yellows, pinks and greens saying 'Happy 1 Week Anniversary Daddy - Luv Baby'...it makes me pause, reflect and I feel a small ripping in my heart.

I start projects, water the plants and prepare to hit the gym. There will be beers later with H. and C. and D. - I'm building fences - using friends. I let the handsome, human fence surround me at bars and feel safer behind it - looking outwards. I smile, I laugh, I joke...yet behind my eyes there's been a bit of a vacancy for weeks now. In the cocky swagger there's a suggestion of 'maybe', but more often 'off-limits' or 'danger - construction site'. I went to dinner and for drinks (far, far to many drinks) with the charming, vunerable, J the EE (formerly known as 'BN1") last night, and as the smoothness of his vodka tonics took hold of him I could see despite my distance - he's slipped to far. He's fallen. He references a new found belief in love or finding that Mr Right - he knows his comments must appear indirect to not scare me. Saddened, I'm really gonna hurt this one aren't I? I pound through the libation medication and wonder what the other side of this really looks like. Handsome, gentle, Maestro (formerly known as 'BN3') will be leaving for Chicago soon for 8 weeks. He's made it clear he hopes for visits, he asks for nothing when he tells me he misses me when I'm not there. He seems used to my controlled silence, my smile, my body. In both their eyes I see them studying, seeking clues and I wonder how much I give up without knowing it. They know there are others, they know not to expect the daily call - and they feel his presence too, still lingering beyond my shoulder.