This weekend was spent at my grandparents' house. The last time I was there, I was blissfully happy and standing next to the man who would be my husband, the man who is now hundreds of miles away. And we had spent the night before at a hotel, not at my grandparents' house. This weekend was really the first weekend in a while that my family was back to its normal routine and I was alone, as per usual, though, with my grandfather the way he is now, things are far from normal. I don't think they'll ever be "normal" again. Or maybe this is just the new normal. As I was getting my shower, all I could think of was this song. I miss my husband. I miss my grandpa. I miss things being like they should be.
sunday morning- ani difranco
sunday morning
slow beats seething
through the screens in the open windows
eggs frying
legs shaking
after we stayed lying so long in bed
sunday morning
both of us reading
and looking up occasionally
looking up occasionally
sunday morning
you're doing your thing
and i am doing mine
speaking words more a formality
cuz we can feel we are of one mind
sunday morning
sheets still warm
kitties swarming around our feet
life comes easy
your sweet company
making it so complete
of all the monday through fridays
we joined the crusade
of all the saturday nights in which we were made
of all the exorcisms i've done with your ghosts
still it's sunday morning i miss you the most
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