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Still

F  Forever you, ever present, long after you are no longer here.
Making a mockery of miles & moments.
Leaving Time questioning it's impact, Distance questioning it's measure.

Out of sight.
Still on mind.
Still on skin.
Still remaining.
LOOMING LARGE, weaving through the tapestry of my life with threads of gold that outshine all others. I close my eyes, and you're there, present with that wicked smile that could wipe away all of my fears; with that tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth designed to disarm, disrobe and dissolve doubts in a heartbeat.

Lingering in rooms; present in crumpled sheets saturated with the scent of you that clings to my skin on waking. Signs of you in the hand prints on bathroom mirrors that fog up from steamy showers, water from taps & tears pouring down in rivulets on flesh starving for your touch.

Cold descends on my heart, loss grips it like a vice, the ache unbearable, I let the pain wash over me like a wave, taking comfort that I can still feel, that the numbness has past.
I want to feel you.
The pain feels good, it is all I have left of you.

No, not right:  I have him.
Jack has your eyes, blue like the Indian Ocean, and just as warm. He looks at me with love, he is my saving grace. 5 years old and wise beyond his years.
Eyes always saying, "Mom, I'm still here!"

I stir; the unrelenting Cape winter making your betrayal more agonising in our bed made lonely. I call to him.
"Jack!"
It's still early for a Saturday morning, the dark refusing to give way to the dawn.
I rise, stepping into furry boots left by my bedside and pull the hoodie of my gown over my head. I make my way to the bedroom next door tripping over Lego and crushing toy soldiers underfoot as I stumble towards his tiny bed.

A strip of light succeeded in penetrating the thick blackness and it falls over his quiff, fringe flicked like TinTin's from restless sleep.It is the best sight in the world. I stroke the curls lovingly from his forehead and pull the covers back. He stirs.
"Come!"
He smiles at me, reaching arms out. I raise him up; he is getting heavy.
He snuggles into me and I sniff the top of his head, sighing deeply, comfort enveloping me.
I place him down carefully in the bed next to me and the words to "Moon River" becomes a lullaby carrying us both off to sleep again.

I awaken to brilliant sunshine streaming into the room, the Mother City granting her children respite from the iciness.
"Good morning, my angel," I smile at Jack ruffling his hair.
"Can I have Jungle oats and flapjacks for breakfast?" he asks, his tummy making grumbling noises.
I tickle his tummy and he laughs.
"No more, mommy, I'mma pee in my pants!"
The sound of his laughter warms my heart.
I pick him up, rest his tiny socked feet on mine, and together, clumsily, awkwardly, but joined together, we make our way to the kitchen.

"Uh oh..."
The cupboards are bare, but my heart is full..
"Let's have some fun today," I say to him, "Knead for breakfast; then sandcastles on Muizenberg Beach, the sun's out today!" (http://ilovecoffee.co.za/2010/04/19/knead-bakery-at-surfers-corner-muizenberg/)
"Yay!" he screams in delight, hopping off my feet and making a dash for his room.
I run after him, "Bathroom first!" but he is already wearing his board shorts and his peak cap when I enter his room.
He is grinning that wicked grin that could melt my heart in an instant, he looks so much like his father.

I offer a silent "Thank you," to the man that broke my heart, but left me with an angel.

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