Happy Anniversary
One year ago we were in my bed in Tucson, It was a Saturday, and I turned to you and whispered, "should I make pancakes?" And really what I should've said was "Good morning, I love you." But there was something about making pancakes in the morning for someone that you loved that made me think of when I was six years old mixing batter with eggs and milk in a mismatched bowl early in the morning hoping that maybe my mother would leave her bed that morning. You wrapped your arms around my stomach and I could feel your breath tickle my ear when you whispered, "Happy Anniversary, we've been together a year." and something about that made my stomach hurt in a way that I no longer thought about the smell of pancakes. After a long pause I whispered back, "I love you," but what I really meant was 'please don't leave me.' And I would ask that the next day as I sat on my bed watching you pack your suitcase, pulling clothes from the pile