Used to Us.

That shopping center used to be an open feild.
That sushi restaurant used to be a Hof's Hut.
That side of the bed used to be His.

You know how once you've lived somewhere long enough or have gotten old enough, you find yourself remembering where things used to be?

that didn't used to be there.

This morning, I got back to my apartment - my tiny room with a kitchen attached - after dropping off my Dutchman at the airport, and for the first time in a long time - okay, perhaps ever - the apartment seemed wide open & empty. Before he arrived, I was terrified he & I would be so cramped together in such a small space that we'd go crazy. But now, walking in, finding myself alone for the first time in weeks, I was overcome with the overwhelming sense that something was missing; all I could see were the spaces where there used to be... Where there used to be a be a long-legged Dutchman sitting on my bed, smiling his knowing smile while I was trying on everything in my closet. Where there used to be a man who gaves me chills when he lightly kissed the top of my head, or better yet, my shoulder blade. He used to be next to me, pulling me in closer right before the sad point in a movie, whispering to me not to cry.

He was here - easy, wonderful and loving & now he just used to be here.

And I got used to Him.
And I got used to Us.

Needless to say, there was a fair amount of crying in the shower this morning.