Belly...

It's the day after Christmas. I'm in Atlanta, the sun is out and it's absolutely beautiful outside. I feel completely totally and utterly full of life. My entire being is elated and smiling so hard it almost hurts. I'm going to meet Rob's mom Judy and his youngest sister Lesley for lunch. It's been over a year since I've seen them. I can't wait to catch up with them, to look at his mother and see his eyes and to watch his sister's hands, seeing a female version of his, to be able to connect with pieces of him that are still on this planet...
I'm driving my dad's truck, giggling at what this image could look like to the people around me. My five foot, three inch frame is almost pressed to the steering wheel, singing at the top of my lungs all the way up I-75. I miss singing so much. I find myself humming sometimes while walking the streets of Chicago wishing I could open my mouth and let the words come out.
I stop at San Fransico Coffee only to see that they're closed. Well damn. I drive further down N. Highland, see Belly and think that'll work.
I pull over and park the truck. Minutes later I'm walking inside inhaling the cafe's delicious freshly baked bagel smell mixed with coffee. I hear Rob's words in my head telling me he really likes this place. I can almost see us acros the way over there sitting on stools eating bagels at the wooden "bar", him with orange juice, me with grapefruit.
The memory leaves my mind as fast as it enters when the woman behind the counter asks what I'm having.
"A small Americano." I reply, still taking in my surroundings. Things have changed a good bit. I'm desperate to tell Rob. I want to pick up the phone, call him and tell him that the bar we used to sit at is no longer there. In it's place is a small wooden table. Next to that is a shelf that houses bulk candy. The shelves against a wall that were partially full of various soda and water bottles are now filled with them. Huge glass candy jars filled to the brim with bright sugary pieces of deliciousness line the bottom of the shelves.
I pay for the coffee and walk over to a massive wooden table and sit. I want to be everywhere with everyone. I want to literally run all over the place, take in all the images that are familiar etching them into my mind to take back to Chicago with me so they can be recalled whenever I need a break from the cold and snow. I want Rob here next to me with his coffee, orange juice and a bagel smiling at me with those shiny green eyes. I know he's here. I can almost feel him watching over me. I feel he probably sent me here to be with me in our little spot. He so loved this place. Loved it's old "general store" feel, it's organic fresh squeezed everything, the table we sat at...he appreciated the tiniest details which always made me smile because I thought I was the only one that noticed them.
The cupcakes are still pastel colored, cookies and coffee beans are still settled in their jars, and the flowers are still arranged on the tables, but I'm here by myself. How do I describe this feeling? I'm so frustrated! I feel I don't have time to think or write all it is I want. I can't even identify what it is I want to say anyway. I feel like I'm moving at the speed of light but in slow motion at the same time. I'm afraid of feeling too much and nothing at all.
I can't even identify what it feels like to be somewhere I used to be with Rob. I do know it hurts. It hurts so badly it's beyond comprehension. It's excruciating to want something I can never, ever, ever in this lifetime have again. There are no words to describe pain like that. To have something and then to have it practically disappear in an instant, never to return again is beyond anything I could ever understand.
Mixed with all of that there's happiness. I'm happy to be in a place I used to share with him, to be able to recall our memories to feel him on some level right here with me...