Monday, January 12, 2009

Days With You

I thought I knew what I was doing but you have no idea what that last weekend together in the gardens did to me, did for me. I have known many perfect moments. I have been a hunter for them. But I never expected a perfect day like the day you gave to me. Before I left, when I was not sure if I would be able to come back, and though you did not say you knew, the day you gave me made feel like somehow you too understood the chances I was taking and the odds I was going to go up against.

I did not tell you I was afraid. Right up until the day I left, I’m quite sure I showed no weakness. I know you hated it but I would not talk about it. I would not let you ask what you wanted to ask the most, question though was in your eyes all the time, and I could see it when you were folding my shirts, instructing me what I would have to do to make sure that they would not look so creased when I got to them wear them, you were so sure I would not bother to try and find somewhere to iron them. There would be no dobbis where I was going.

Leaving the next day, a week day, I had a day at home to myself I did not want to spend at home so when you had left in the morning, I also left for the gardens, to look at the lake once more, sure in my aloneness, planning for the loneliness to come, and the madness of what I was going to do and would have to do and whose dangers I had minimized so you would all let me go, because I knew I would have to go. It was just something I do.

You will never know the welling in my heart when looking over my shoulder, I saw you coming along the path to where I was seated, in those blue jeans I loved on you, and the blue jumper with pink puffs I gave you. Doing something I had never thought you would ever do because I knew you, I thought, as well as you knew me- “I asked for a day off,” right in the middle of the busiest season at your office, which you loved so much, to spend this day with me.

I wanted to say thank you for our last weekend and then coming back Monday to spend another day with me. Thank you for rice sorting jokes in the evening dark with no electricity, seated on the carpet in the doorway. Thank you for that silly chicken dance to my phone ringtone. What you said after we watched that ridiculous Jennifer Love Hewitt-Peter Nicholls If Only movie. The blue tee-shirt. Not minding about your lip gloss. Thank you for the gift of you and our weekend. A whiter shade of pale by Annie Lennox. I knew I would be coming back then.

4 comments:

Sybella said...

banange i love it when men in love express the way they feel... it is just so delicious...

this is beautiful... i hope she gets to read it...

Erique said...

You don't mind copying this onto a foolscap so my future woman thinks I'm this articulate.

petesmama said...

I love Whiter Shade of Pale. I love the way you express love. But then, you know I have always loved the Poet.

~ScotchBiscuits~ said...

yes, more power to silly chicken dances...