Having Someone to Tell Things to

I miss having someone to tell things to—not the important things, really. Just everyday incidents. Michael was the one I wanted to share not only the life-altering happenings with first but also the accomplishments I was proud of. He was the one I could tell a juicy piece of gossip to and know that I’d get a nod of recognition, a shocked intake of breath, or better yet, that helpless, shared laughter that only comes from being together day-layered-upon-day, until those days make up the last twenty years of living. It is this that I miss almost more than anything else because it spells companionship in a way nothing else can.