Space for Me

View from Black Earth Prairie, author photo

I keep poking at the hole; a small exit wound is all that remains where I extracted my five and one half year relationship.

There is very little pain, like,

very

little;

like

almost

none.

“Scar tissue build-up,” my bonus son said, “I had that once at the end of a relationship, nothingness.”

I keep touching and touching and touching the place he occupied; it was an enormous space in my heart and mind.

Peace.

Emptiness.

Calm.

Relief.

Room for me.

Five and one half years.