#Day 908: A Letter For When He Finds A New Lover

I remember your shining confidence, bursting heart, overwhelming grin when you told me that I was the best you’d ever had and you were the best I’d ever want. I hope you find it in your throat, in your vocal chords, on your tongue, to say that with less arrogance and more conviction to her.

I can still picture you in our kitchen, trying and failing to make me pancakes, calling my salads food for a rabbit, laughing as I doused you in dish water. I pray you’re a better cook for the mornings when you wake up next to her, in a strange bed, warm and content in the arms of another woman. I hope she knows you like your eggs without the yolk.

Tell her about your first time on a boat, I still laugh when I recall that particular story. Teach her to knot your tie for you like your mother did, or maybe she’ll pick it up on her own.

Sometimes I hear your voice in my head, telling me how Jack at work pushes you to move upstate to help in the Head Office, I can hear your insistent whining about never leaving our dogs and the comfort of home.
I hope when you get your next raise, you take her out to the pier like you had promised me, with wine and cheese. I hope you remember what my father taught you about the reds going well with trout and the white with your famous home style pastas.

Now that I think about it, I should have given you the gramophone. She’d love to dance with you to Sinatra, I still have the record. It was a lovely night. I look through the albums every now and then. Do you remember that one picture where you’re dipping me and kissing my neck? It was surreal. I still feel a slight blush creeping at the memory of how close you held me when we danced.

Do you remember that time we went to New York and we were snowed in for a week? I laid in your arms most of the time and read Byron to you, you recited Shakespeare to me. Do that with her. She’ll fall head over heels if you give her half as much as you gave me.

My heart does to this day skip a beat when I remember your fingers on my waist, brushing against my skin; your eyes, looking into me like I was an abyss of answers; your arms, crushing me to you like I could crawl into your veins and breathe your essence in.
I hope when you kiss her she knows just how to tug your hair, I hope she revels in your proximity like it was a bonfire in the dead of winter. I can imagine her loving your dimples, too.

Here’s to her learning the sound of your heart, the taste of your kisses, the difference in your eyes in different moods; here’s to her knowing stories of your scars, especially the one on your left hip bone; here’s to her laughing at the joke about the two horses, here’s to your life with a girl I will never have the chance to be, here’s to her loving you like I did, like I do.

I know you had to leave, I know it was the smarter choice, I did after all convince you to say yes to Jack. I hope she gets you as I did, I hope she loves you even a fraction of what I do, I hope you give yourself to her completely, I hope you find in her what you couldn’t in me.

I hope she keeps you happy, my love, and I hope you keep her happier.

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