Toothbrush

The first time we were separated was the worst. Half of me gone to Washington DC on business, the other half of me at home. I kissed you extra special when you left, as if we could deposit it in our kissing bank and then withdraw it in the lonely dark. You called me to say good night and we said “I love you” a hundred times just in case the distance made it hard to hear. It’s easier now. But seeing just one toothbrush in the holder still makes me count down the minutes until I see you again.