In a parallel universe or alternate reality, when I turn my head you’ll be sitting across from be. We’ll be talking and laughing about what we did today. The music drifting onto the porch will be jazz and we’ll be enjoying the meal we cooked together. After we eat we’ll go inside and do the dishes together. You’ll wash and I’ll dry because you don’t know where everything goes yet.
Then you’ll take my hand and we’ll go for a walk in the cool of the evening. When we get back we’ll cuddle on the couch and watch a spy movie or something that you choose. We’ll enjoy the fact that we get to be alone together. When the movie ends, we’ll let all ten minutes of the credits roll and just talk in hushed voices.
When we say goodnight, you’ll want to stay the night and I’ll make you go even though part of me wishes you could stay. But I’m not that kind of girl. I walk you to your car and you push me up against it to kiss me goodnight. As I dip my head to kiss you, I hope my sister can’t see us from the upstairs window. As I watch your tail lights disappear up the driveway, I thank God for letting me have the perfect day with you.
Instead, I’m sitting here alone and the music that’s playing is a mournful soundtrack. I’ve spent the day alone and I made dinner alone. I’ll be washing the dishes by myself and then going for a lonely walk as the daylight fades. When I return, I’ll watch a movie I pick out and then slowly fall asleep wishing you had been here.
I can wear a dress, use the fancy China, make a special meal, and pour a glass of wine, but no matter how I try to dress it up, it’s still eating dinner alone.