Ten. It has been ten years. It just doesn't seem possible yet time seems to be flying by so quickly now, it is actually a little scary. I am 51 now and you would be turning 29.
I can look in the mirror and see how much I have aged, the lines around my eyes and mouth, the grey hair that keeps appearing that I keep covering up with a different color every month.. I can see my hands changing, the skin thinner like my grandmothers, that waggly stuff under my arms that makes me laugh and want to cry at the same time.
I don't have the energy I use to have, not sure if that is from aging or just my lack of interest in things I use to think were so important. I have gained all that weight I kinda knew I would but promised myself I wouldn't. Everyday I wake up sure I will just accept this new mature fuller body then hating myself for not taking better care of a body that needs to last a long time.
You...I can only try to imagine you at 29. I think you would have the job of your dreams and be in love with a guy that has a soft voice, pretty hands, who is smart, witty, loves to cook (just like you). I can see the two of you sitting up late at night reading together under a blanket you knitted. He would adore you and be protective and loving, feel so lucky to love a woman with such a brilliant mind who is funny and laughs with her whole face.
I imagine your hair past your shoulders, up in a ponytail most days, cute sweaters, flats, perfume that smells like flowers. You would be hipster for sure, no doubt about it and that man of yours maybe he would have one of those awesome hipster beards. You guys would go to concerts and collect odd retro stuff for you apartment, make DIY christmas gifts, drive cute electric cars.
I wish I could call you and ask you to come to dinner on Sunday, you would bring something yummy for desert. I wish we had a standing lunch date every week, you would share work gossip...I wish we could get pedicures and ready trashy magazines, Aly would come with us. I wish I could trim your hair, do your eyebrows like I use to.
I read "What Dreams May Come" again... it comforts me I can't explain why.
We went to the cemetery, Aly came for the first time since the funeral. She unburdened her soul, it tore me apart. She loves and misses you so very much. We planted a tangerine tree over your body. We planted a cara cara at home. I wish you were here to watch them grow, pick the fruit, drive me crazy by leaving the peels by the computer...
I miss you every single day. I still count the minutes...5,256,000