I recall a golden snippet of a memory, maybe two years ago, when love was bright and new
. It’d been over a month since my last visit. A bright, sunny day. I pulled my car around to the back, Rex sticking his nose in the open car door to sniff me out. Then I marched into the kitchen, looking for you.
You’d just walked out of your little home office to meet me, and there you were three feet away, my handsome man, standing straight as an arrow. And me, looking cute in my spaghetti straps and little dangly earrings and crazy red curls. I was full of myself that day.
I stopped, and we just stood there basking in each other for a few golden seconds as you smiled– still rooted to your spot. “How are you?” you said, almost as if I was an old friend who’d miraculously appeared before you.
And I beamed back from my spot, “Just fine, thanks, and yourself?” I still remember the beautiful, expectant gladness of that moment, as we stood there across from each other, caught in the dazzle.