I wake up with the dream fresh in my mind; so real it seemed, so tangible. It plays in my mind over and over again: he is home and things are as they always have been, in appearance that is; inside it has changed. We talk, as old friends do, and when he hugs me, preparing to leave, his body is so warm and welcoming and he smells so familiar. I sigh. As he pulls away the scruff on his jaw brushes against my hair and I am completely undone; lost to any shred of resolve I had before. It is later now and I tell her that I cant do it any longer; I cannot have him so near and not have him. I must either leave, or tell him. The dream is like ice water on my warm heart. It was wonderful to have him back and to be in his arms for a moment, but i feel hollow and cold now that the dream has gone. I take a deep breath and imagine I am a tree; roots deep and strong in the soil, my trunk and branches reaching to the sky. I find peace in this image of myself. I accept the peace. Peace and patience are what will keep me.