Sometimes I paint, untranslatable words…

Dor (Romanian): longing for a person, place, or thing that is out of reach and you love very much

I don’t just miss the nouns from my life, but the verbs too; I miss the letter writing, the thin blue paper, the tree climbing, the games we played at dusk, the voices of the neighbor men calling in their children, the way my father said “yellow” every time he answered the phone, how a stray would find your backdoor, and the sun found its way through the leaves, left spots on the patio. I miss the coins we collected and the phones we found and the calls we made late at night (either where I was, or where you were). I miss writing the postcards, finding the stamps, and the sound of the mailbox taking them in.

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