I start to rise but then I look over at your peaceful sleep. I focus on your resting lashes, how they seem so perfectly in place. I wonder where you are. A childhood home with your mom making spaghetti, or a bicycle ride in Tunisia, or visiting the Louvre trying to figure out the meaning of life through the coy smile of the Mona Lisa?  Am I with you?

I wonder. I wonder. I wonder. For all of time, I wonder.