Deep Purple Breaths

Yesterday I unscrewed the top of the homemade huckleberry jam you gave me before you left for Lisbon. I took deep purple breaths to fill my light pink lungs. It was such a necessary experience; the vision of you in my mind’s eye atrophies each day, the Atlantic between us casts foggy shades on my eyes and the crystal clear memory muddles like a lake after heavy rain The anxiety of asking you a question when I have no idea what the answer will be, but have every notion of what I wish it to be. It’s a 60 pound backpack 4 hours into an uphill hike, so I resign my curiosity and just tap the Portuguese postcard nailed to the wall beneath the light switch every time I leave the house. and hope that you would do the same.