Confession

My love,

I keep seeing things I think you'd like to see, reading things I think you'll enjoy reading, and planning trips we'd go on together. I cannot ask you to be patient with me. I feel like I've given all I could give and yet, it is so not enough. Yet now I'm learning to hold my own hand when I cross the road and figure out my puzzles without you.  It feels like walking on a treadmill. I go nowhere and accomplish so little. But I keep coming back. Somehow, I just keep breathing. For now, that is all I know how to do.