I left her in the morning. Took the 13 bus home in thirteen minutes. Up the stairs, the apartment looked the same as ever. And it would never be the same again.
Stared at by faded families of generations past on the mantelpiece, the very frames made me cry for the first time.
I would go back to her later in the day, after a freshen-up and a rest. I took my time to savour the quiet, for I could feel the difference already and I wasn’t sure that I liked it much. Our life, which had been so wonderful, was changed now forever.
I’d need to create other photographs – in new frames – in the times to come.
After I cleaned myself up, I ate eggs and toast and slept for a while. The bed was strange without her and I cried again.
In the afternoon, I went back to her. Her eyes looked like the night before; perhaps a little less tired. She hadn’t been moved, which surprised me.
I talked to her, without reply, and she seemed to hear what I was saying. About what we’d had and that nothing would ever be the same from now on. How I’d miss it, despite this gift we now had together.
As she held him up to me, he was more wonderful than before. As I took him, the images in those old photographs returned. A whole new generation in my arms, to bring our past and futures together.
I saw her watch me with him, for that first time, with now sparkling eyes. She would be back with me soon I was sure. And she would bring him with her.
To our new world. So much more than a world that yesterday, together, we each left behind.