Birthday Wish

He asked me what my birthday wish was. I said I would have to think about it, but I really don't. I already know exactly what I want. The trouble is, what I want isn't a thing, and I can't talk to him about it anyway. My birthday wish is for him to actually be in love with me like he used to be and for things to be the way they used to be. Then I could rid myself of this seedy jealousy for that quirky blonde that thinks he's so brilliant. The one that makes him laugh when he tells me funny things she said. Then I wouldn't be laying here in this bed looking at the other half that not only has no one in it, but not even the hope of someone being there because it is now a strange storage area for miscellaneous papers and clothes. These are not interesting bedfellows; I stick to my half. Then I could imagine some romantic getaway, even if we never went. Then I could feel him with me, encouraging me to keep going, even when we are not actually together. I could share things, and learn things, and discover things again. I could stop filtering the things I say because they might not be appropriate. I could give myself up and not have second thoughts. I could make plans. I could make promises. I could fantasize about a wedding in Hawaii, with just us. I could fantasize about the kids we would raise together. We could keep secrets. We could walk together like we mean it, and not have to say excuse me when we bump into each other. We could steal kisses and glances. I could trust someone again. I could glue my heart back together, piece by piece. I could stop counting the days since...I could have confidence and comfort back. I could feel beautiful. Smart. Funny. Charming. As good as quirky blonde girl. I could enjoy being naked again. Enjoy someone else's idiosyncracies again. This is my wish for my birthday. Something that is truly impossible, but in some parallel dimension, it IS possible.