I look for you in the faces of strangers. I wonder if there is another you out there,
living a life. You, but someone else. I look for that spark in their eyes. That little bit of recognition that tells me
it’s you. Sometimes I will see someone
who walks like you or holds their shoulders the same way you always did, and I
wonder if they can make awesome spaghetti sauce. Or if they laugh out loud when they read
Garfield comic books. Or if they can program
a mainframe.
I wonder if their family appreciates them in the way I never
thought to appreciate you. I want to
warn them that you are only here for a little while. And I am jealous that they still have
you. Even though it’s not you at all.
