my dream of you

Last night I dreamed that Robin had bought my house in Raleigh. She had furnished it in a way that was totally different from how I had it, and yet it was very beautiful. The curious thing was in my dream it seemed she had arranged it in such a way that all the rooms -- which were very small, are very small in real life -- seemed much bigger. Now that I am awake I realize this was nonsense: the ceilings had grown higher, the rooms had doubled in size. This was like one of those dreams where you find an extra room in your house you had never noticed before.

"I'm so glad," I told Robin in my dream, choking back a sob as I said it, "that you have this house now and I can come and visit sometimes."

A year ago we sold the house, cleaned it, walked out forever. Last year we were driving north on I-95 to a new and unknown life. From spring flowers in North Carolina to piles of snow in Connecticut, all in one day. I thought I had stopped being sad about all that but at this anniversary time it has come back: the feelings I had then, the sadness of saying goodbye. Like when someone dies; you never stop being sad somewhere inside. It's just that daily life covers it up, distracts you.