I Miss You When You're In The Other Room.

by Serge Bielanko

It's pouring here this morning. I can hear the rain swish off the tires of the cars out on the street. In the morning, I drink my coffee with the tv sound down now. And I listen for the morning peeps. Violet will wake up maybe half the time when I am getting ready for work. When she does, there is no screaming or crying. Just short quiet peeps, like smoke alarms with dying batteries.

It sucks when there are none. When she lies there by her momma in peaceful sleep and doesn't need anything or anyone. Or me. I get eager to go in there with the stealth of a prowler and just pluck her up from the little Wal-Mart sleeper thingy she is dreaming on. But to do that would be to invite myself to crash nature's ball. Dudes like me should not be crashing nature's ball.

So, on she sleeps. I poke around some fly fishing sights on the web; look at fish porn. These gray shitty days bring on the good Blue Wing Olive hatches. I wish I could get out to the river today. Thoughts of a quiet stretch to myself, of afternoon hatches. Thoughts of the summer days to come and the big caddis flies that cause brown trout to explode from the water with reckless greed.

Awww shit who am I kidding?

Thoughts of MAKE A GODDAMN PEEP ALREADY !!! Maybe you don't need me just this sec, butterbean. But I need you. Again.