a masochists memoir

chilly Sunday afternoons are meant for crockpots, baking, movies and snuggles on the couch.
fall evenings are meant for making dinner, running kids and chasing stars.
bedtime is for spooning and scooping with one hand on my hip. my legs wrapped around yours and our breathing in sync.
it seems selfish to say that i'm alone - i don't have many friends, the ones i have show up at the important times.
but when it comes to chilly Sunday afternoons, these dark fall evenings and bedtime, I am very, very alone.
the silence is deafening, the chill gives me goosebumps and I am so, so cold. I wake up reaching for someone that isn't there and my empty arms fill up with tears instead.