I miss Don so much.  Some people say they have seen him.  How can the passion we shared be gone?  How could he just walk away and not look back?  Why?  Why?   why

 

I remember looking at real estate with Don.  It was always an adventure and I would always feel like I was riding on the edge with him.  We pulled up in the driveway in Don’s pickup truck expecting the house was abandoned by the overgrown yard and broken windows.  This house was in an awful neighborhood and just getting from the truck to the back door of this long forgotten home was making the blood race through my veins.  I was expecting to be ambushed at any moment and although we had scouted the house out through the windows, we never knew who might be using these shells for cover.  Don was an expert at breaking and entering as it was his policy to never “break” and yet no building had ever proven impervious to him.

 

We always made ourselves known while on the outside, although this day we were quieter than usual due to the danger of drawing attention to ourselves in this part of town.  Once inside, we were always cat like in the quiet, cautious way that we would search out every room, always watching each other’s backs.  The hair would stand erect on the back of my neck and I would sweat in nervous anticipation.  Don always carried a gun in his sock and a gun in his pocket, but I was his eyes and his ears.

 

His senses had dulled and I had to be always on guard.  Once we were certain that we were alone in the house,  we could look at it again through different eyes.  The eyes of the real estate investors who knew what would be expensive to repair and what would need only superficial attention in order to turn this into a profitable venture.  The kitchen is often the most neglected and most costly to replace and as usual, our second search commenced here.

 

I stood at the sink, looking out the window, wondering what it would be like to be to have lived here and had for my daily view the depressing sight of burned buildings, graffiti and violence.  I thought about the desperation of being so impoverished that I could not change my status in life and the complications of addiction and unwanted children that would further add to my burdens… when behind me in his amorously happy voice Don said “Can you think of anywhere we haven’t done it?”  Coming back to present day reality, I looked down and said “only the kitchen sink.”

 

He pulled me close and kissed me, long and soft and gentle like he always does.  I get lost in his kisses.  The rest of the world just floats away and nothing matters anymore except the sweetness of his lips.  I’ve never been kissed with such intensity and passion before Don, nor since.  I was so lost in his love, that I barely even noticed he was unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans.  I was so lost in my desire that I don’t even know how he undressed.  All I remember was being thrust up onto the sink and the feel of Don sinking deep inside me.  I was howling with the pleasure in complete abandon of the danger this could bring on us.  I love the way he makes love to me.  So tender and with such force that I cannot think of anything but him and all else fades away in ecstasy.

 

There are so many moments that we shared like these.  I always thought the magic was in “us” but maybe it was all his.