February 19

Regret by Mayfair

That's when you and I
broke up before,
right after Valentine's Day.
Since then, we had grown
closer and closer,
and you told me that
this time was forever.

You would say things like:
when we're 80 years old and
carving the Thankgiving turkey...
This is the first in a 50
year collection of art together...
these are the kind of stories
we can tell our grandchildren.

I used to carry my portable phone
outside, to the bathtub, around the yard,
turn my cell phone on when I left,
keep both next to me in my bed...
I didn't want to miss one call,
one moment with you...
If you were off work,
I would wait for you
to come over, to call
and say...
let's get a movie...
come with me to run errands...
how about some lunch...
want to cook out tonight...

You were my best friend.
It was you sitting beside me
on the porch swing
telling stories,
looking at the stars,
walking around the mall,
holding hands in the grocery store,
the drug store, the hardware store.
It was you sitting beside me
watching baseball with your boys
who would caress my hair
for two hours straight,
catch my eye and whisper,
"I love you".
It was you who never failed
to see me without kissing me.
It was you who would
keep me awake til 6 a.m.
making love and then laughing,
"I'm not 22 years old anymore."

It was your phone calls,
sometimes 10 times a day...
what are you doing?
what errands do you have to run?
when will you be back?
what did you eat for supper?
what friends houses are
the kids at now?
will you come see me?
i really miss you...
and if i took too long...
why aren't you here yet?
why didn't you drop everything
to come see me...with a smile
in your voice...
and~come home from work.
I wish you were here now.
When you get home,
I'll be in your bed...
and I would come home and
slip all my clothes off
and snuggle up against you.
You would wake up and smile.

I am still in a daze,
carrying all my phones around
everywhere I go even though
they never ring anymore.
Every time I hear a noise,
I rush to the window.
I keep hearing your voice.
I keep seeing your face.

I keep forgetting
and can't believe that
you told me goodbye,
that all of your things
are sitting on my
side-door porch,
as if we really
broke up for good...

Your lamp, your stereo,
your apartment key on
the "princess" keychain because
I never want to see it again,
never want to think of your boys
laughing, "Here dad~here's your
princess keys" and the way
you always laughed back...
it was our private joke
"as a family"...
your purple toothbrush,
your 3 Dog Night c.d.,
the picture of you
at Bailey's Pub
sticking out your tongue
and posing for the camera,
and the basket you bought
for my grill, "Our grill"
you once called it,
just like you used to say,
"our bed, our apartment"...
And I had to throw away
the welcome mat that you
accidentally told Ethan
"to wipe your feet on before
you go in Mom's house,"
and the silly piece of paper
that Ethan wrote a story on
just goofing around and
left on my kitchen counter
at the old house, the one
I would read and smile.

They have been sitting there
for three days now, along
with your broken-down car
in my driveway and I have
a new ritual of looking
out the window every
ten minutes or so to
see if they're still there
with my phones in both hands
as if we could forget everything,
as if it never happened...

Then I remember.
I see your things and
it hits me like a
punch in the stomach...
I get the wind knocked
out of me and can't breathe,
and just lay down
on the kitchen floor
and sob.

August 5th, my mom's birthday...
is 100 times more painful than
February 19th...and a day
I will never get over.
Because since February 19th,
I had erased all my doubts,
started to believe once again
in the word "forever" and
I let myself fall
completely in love with you.
I will never be able
to give my heart to
anyone that way again.

Lori Beal

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February 19