Staring Down at the Waves and Up at the Stars

     In the early morning hours I sit in the endless, echoing self-silence that is my lot at work, and I find myself with an abundance of time.  Time to sit in my elevated chair of watchfulness, like a gargoyle who's only job is to stay still and watch the lap swimmers until one of them should need saving.  If that day ever comes during morning lap swim (the time for triathletes to come and wake up - their own version of the cup of coffee) I'll admit I'll be surprised.
     So I think.  Some days I relish the abundance of time given to me to untangle my woven mass of thoughts, while other days all I can think of is the slow progress of the clock's minute hand.
     Today, however, my thoughts were interrupted by a laugh that made me look at the swimmers not for their capabilities to stay breathing, but rather for their faces.  I had heard your laugh - one I haven't heard since long ago, since before you decided that we were irrevocably finished and done with.  When I found the owner of that unique laugh, I was a bit relieved to see that it was an impostor and not actually you in the water.  It has been a while since I've harbored hard feelings towards you, but I still have no joy in the thought of meeting you again and being forced into conversation or confrontation.
     I used to lie awake staring at the stars out my bedroom window and wonder why I wasn't enough for you.  But I've found peace since then.  I have found a life of fulfillment and challenge and everything I was looking for.  And I found this without you.  When that thought first occurred to me, I thought to myself that this was the best revenge.  But that thinking quickly dissipated when I thought of all you had meant to me.  Of all the days, and nights, and dreams we had trusted to share with one another.
     Struck by a mix of relief and nostalgia, I settled back into my duty of keeping watch and I said a prayer, wishing that you would find your own life of fulfillment too.  I hope you do.