I put a surprise cookie in your lunchbox today. I tucked it underneath the black peppered turkey sandwich I made for you. The one on the 13-grain whole wheat bread you love so much, with the cajun mayonnaise you think is so special. It gives me such pleasure to make your lunch for you everyday. This is something I wouldn’t trade for the world.
To me it’s important.
When we each go our separate ways to live the lives we lead when we’re apart, my heart gets lonely and sad for you. It aches and pines and protests. It has a tantrum and fusses and is restless for you. There are so many times when I look up at the clock that my mind wanders back to thoughts of you. I longingly count down the hours ‘til I’ll be seeing you again.
At 5:30 PM.
I have such daydreams of you. You working away, chatting up the other folks in your office in that charming way of yours. You sitting there in the break room eating your lunch, the newspaper open to the editorial page. It’s imagining you there that gets me most. Thinking about that moment when you uncover the surprise cookie I put in your lunchbox.
At that moment, you’re nothing but mine.