September

It's almost the kid's birthday again, which got me thinking about his party last year. Do you remember?

I knew your kids would be there, but I didn't know who was going to pick them up. Would you expect us to just send them home? Or would it be him? Both of you? Just you? It's crazy, I know, but I couldn't stop focusing on that question. Fortunately, I was busy getting things ready all day, and couldn't worry too much about it. But the tension just kept building up inside of me. I needed to see you. I need to see you. So when parents started showing up, I was wound tight as a tourniquet.

So when you walked into my backyard, lit by all those torches… the relief was… I wonder what my face looked like in that moment. I hope I was beaming, as you were smiling at me, because the alternative is my jaw was on the floor. Either way, the tension evaporated instantly, joy flooding my heart…

You stuck around for a bit, and we talked for a little while. But our conversations always end too soon. Sometimes, I think you feel that, too…

Months later, everyone was over looking at the moon in my telescope (Jupiter and Saturn are in the evening sky now… time to break it out again). As everyone was heading home, I said something to you. You could have tossed a quick reply over your shoulder and kept walking, but you didn't. You turned around and came back to stand across the fence from me. I had you. Just for a moment, but I had you. And I wonder what would have happened if I had reached up in that moment, placing my hand on your cheek before sliding my fingertips to the back of your neck… Where would we be now?