If I Had My Way...

We'd be back at Third Street Bagel, on a Sunday morning in January just like this, with Counting Crows on the stereo. We'd have our window seats, staring out at downtown Marquette through frost-laced windows, and we'd be sipping at strong coffee while we talked and laughed. You'd be making fun of me for how much cream-cheese I ask for on my bagel, and I'd be blowing you off, relishing the feel of my arteries clogging with every bite.

If I had my way, you'd be wearing your snuggly-shirt, and I'd lose myself in rubbing a free hand up and down your back. You'd steal a kiss or two from me, and I'd let you. When the conversation eventually petered out, we'd simply content ourselves to pore over copies of The New Yorker together in silence. We'd read interesting bits aloud to each other, and trade when we were done.

If I had my way, we'd be gazing and smiling at the hippie kids that came in; the odd preppy couple that wandered in; the professor with a laptop and an armload of research documents. We'd be debating which sounded better--a journey out to Sugarloaf or an afternoon spent under blankets, watching movies and making love. We'd never arrive at a concensus, so we'd do both. We'd end up at the library later, curled up in our armchairs in front of the fireplace, and in the evening we'd call up Mexican and Sean, tell them to meet us at the Landmark.

If I had my way, sometimes I think we'd have never left the shores of Superior. Even on block leave, I've never felt as alive as I did being back in the city that brought us together. I miss Marquette, and I miss you. I miss the company of our friends, and I miss the endless thrum of life that flows throughout a college town. I miss seeing the sun rise over the Big Lake; the way it throws the Pictured Rocks into faintest relief on the horizon. I miss our weird little bookstore, and I miss nights spent shouting to be heard over shitty bands at the Upfront.

If I had my way, we'd be home. You'd never have to worry about my safety again, and I'd never have to question the virtue of my line of work. Sure, life might be a bit harder, but we'd have each other, and I might be closer to finishing my Bachelor's. Hell, by now you'd probably be done with your clinicals, and you'd be that much closer to your RN. If I had my way, I'd be a better husband, and a better friend; not dragging you over hell's half-acre just so I could satisfy some bullshit need to prove myself. We might be pregnant by now, and we'd be arguing over what to name it if it was a boy. I'd know better than to challenge Rowan for a girl.

If I had my way, I'd change a lot of things. I'd have put you first more; I'd have put my own values before a steady line of work. I'd have done a lot of things differently. But I'd never dream of changing anything with you.

And that's when I realize that all of this has been necessary.

God, I miss you.