He told me once he would name our daughter after the places we had been or flowers he picked for me.

He said he would name her Carolina, not Caroline, and he would remember those humid summer nights we spent watching the sunset.

He said he'd name her Daisy, because he knew my favorite was flowers and he would buy her anything she desired to make her as happy as me.

He told me this once, a long time ago, back when we were young and before we really thought about life. Back before I knew what I wanted and *** to react when he said he wanted kids.

I told him I hoped our son has his green eyes and his sandy blonde, but turning darker each year, hair.

I told him I hoped our son had his spark and his sarcastic smile so I could always remember he had the good pieces of his father, the parts I laughed about.

I told him that before things changed, before we both spun out of control and closer to the flames.

Now we sit on opposite sides of the country and we talk to different people about kids and love. And we wonder, where things could have been if we hadn't become so lost in ourselves  for once.

There are always long nights when music doesn't help and alcohol doesn't help and crying just doesn't help.

There are always long days when my legs want to give out and my back is shaking and my heart breaks a little more each hour.

And there will be times in the middle of the night when I want nothing more than to call you and remind you I'm still alive.

To call and just hear your voice even through voicemail knowing you were real at one point in my life.

There are always going to be days when the sun shines a little less and the storms find their way into my heart.

There are always going to be days when I wake up happy and content and I can easily forget you were even a part of my life.

And there will be times in the middle of the afternoon when my mind wanders and I am not nearly as sad as I was a few days ago...

And knowing I am just a little less broken than l was yesterday brings me a little hope that I will move on.

It could have been a Sunday when the first glimpse of my unknown future would make itself known.

He was that mystery you never solve. The Nancy Drew case that kept you awake as a kid. The unknown if aliens are real or not. The uncertainty of who built the pyramids.

He was the first morning light and the darkest sunset you can imagine. His mind swayed from good to bad and bad to worse more often than not. He was the calm before the storm. The rain before the hurricane.

It could have been a Sunday when my life decided to take the turn down the wrong alley way on the middle of the night for him.

He was the softest linens on a freshly made bed. He was the rough hands of a man who worked hard. He was the dream I couldn't remember until you said the one word that brought it all crashing back. He was nostalgia and memories.

But he was different.
He let things change him and his past caught up with his future.
He let me change.
And my past caught up with him.

And maybe it was a Sunday... I can't be too sure when my future became uncertain.

Now if you asked me about my version of heaven if say it smelled of vanilla and lavender. I would tell you the walls were made of teal and there would never be ceilings just clouds that hung above. There would be beautiful redwood trees surrounding the ocean so I could sleep.

Now if you asked my my version of heaven I would tell you about the daisies and the piles of autumn leaves. I would tell you there was a constant nostalgia feeling.

And if you asked me about my version of heaven I would tell you that for once it didn't involve you. I wouldn't remember the smell of your cologne or the natural wave in your hair. I would never remember the green hues in your eyes and that breathtaking smile.

Because to be constantly reminded of the passion and the person I can't have is not my version of heaven.
It's my hell.