Freckles.

It looks as if someone has taken a toothbrush covered in light brown ink and splattered it across my face, freckles…a sign that my soul is filled with sunshine. Two or three weeks have passed, although I can’t be entirely sure as I’ve lost track of time, something that has indeed been a blessing. It’s definitely not easier, just clearer, and with the ins and outs of days which pass as a slow slumberous breath, I begin to have hope for the future that lies ahead; Uncurling and wild, untouched. A deep sadness still anchors my heart; I fight it off with a weak promise that we will always be friends. Something he won’t promise, something he can’t. I tell myself that I’ll fight for him, no longer as a husband but as a friend. I’ll be there for him always, always?