Missing it isn't wanting it

If I still miss it, am I really free? That question showed up right behind the ache. The ache itself is dull and polite. It doesn't bargain. It doesn't shout. It sits under your ribs and asks for nothing. The question does more damage than the ache ever could.

Missing it and wanting it back are two separate events. Missing is memory doing its ordinary work. Wanting it back is a decision, and decisions live somewhere else. You can miss your old school hallway and have zero interest in retaking tenth grade algebra. The feeling shows up. The choice stays yours.

The cigarette trained you to hear every ache as an order, and then it filled the order itself. That arrangement is over. An ache can visit now without running the house. Feelings get a voice. They don't get a vote. Notice it, name it, and carry on with your day. Let enough aches pass unobeyed and they stop expecting obedience.

The ache might hang around a while. That's allowed. It can sit in your chest and cost you nothing. Tell God the plain version. He's held heavier. You know this ache. Steady me. Then lay out tomorrow's clothes, a small kindness for the morning. I can miss it and still be free. Today proves it.