Let’s not take for granted the person who is there for us in the night.
Let’s not take for granted the years of service, and loving care and encouragement that sustains a marriage, a partnering, a lifetime of mess ups.
Let’s not take for granted the sunrise when we know sometimes the day is full on grey and the clouds aren’t going to scatter but we are still going to sit here waiting for them to break simply because we did a good thing yesterday.
Let’s not take for granted the difference we make in someone’s life in that time between solitude and loneliness.
Believe in the goodness of people; all are doing the best each can..
#for Reticent Mental Property.
Criss-crossed, my legs are in your heat, tucked under the rail. The tan purse from my shoulder rests under my elbow – the one you knew to look for upon my arrival. Your face is not turned toward me and I like the casual stance you are trying to take. There’s a busy bartender pulling the tap and trying to make conversation but she’s not listening to our answers and we don’t hear her questions.
You set the popcorn between us, don’t mind if my hand dips in the bowl when yours does. I wait and take a few kernels, you do the same. There’s a bit of the white that falls to the bar and you swipe it to the floor with the side of your hand. Somehow a salty small piece takes to the corner of my mouth and you think nothing of reaching and holding my jaw -fingers open to the flesh under my chin – as you use your thumb to flick it off a ribbon of lips.
A bit distracted by your forwardness, I put on a smile and brush the same place with my fingertips. I grin with a bit of discomfort that I find I have but don’t hold long when I’m with you. We talk about golf- you don’t play anymore. We talk about your place and the storms of last night. We check up on the children we both raise, keep raising. We talk about nothing but manage to lean into each other, frequently, shoulder to shoulder a little shrug of acknowledgement of the ease of sharing our worlds.
It’s time to go.
I check my phone and reach out to shake hands, palm to palm, a solid touch, firm and strong no matter the heated tone of the conversations we end.
We used to kiss goodbye.
I look into your eyes and find your gaze, hold on to your attention longer than your hand.
Cheers to happy hour and good listens. Cheers to verbal battles and the chemistry of banter.
#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.
Nostalgia shows her mercy as long as we give credit to those faded friendships.
Now, with legs drawn up and books scattered about and glasses of red on hand, we find ourselves draped languidly on the porches of the modern cabins we fashion in the likeness of those we found during the laughter of those days at the lake.
Now, gracefully greeting our past and fusing it to present, with permission to be schooled, the conscience and the memories let us roam with perspective far into the past to see how history pointed us to our future.
The sun-filled past, she knew where we were meant to travel, even before we lived those summer days.
# For Reticent Mental Property, image from 8tracks.com