I can remember that first look you gave me. I walked into the room, and I swear you looked twice. I think I said, “Hi,” and you shook my hand. I can remember the last look you gave me too – but I’m hopeful that it’s not really the last.
There’s moments when you look at me, still, as if it was the first time. You smile with the entirety of you mouth, almost as if there is so much love emitting from you that you simply can’t contain it anymore. The warmth coming from it sends chills straight to my bones but heats me from the inside out.
And when you smile, I can think of all the years that I didn’t know you, the moments that I missed interlocking my hands with yours. When you smile, I relive all of the moments we have shared, like a movie playing before my eyes.
I love how I can make you laugh, how the sound just bursts from your chest and your whole body shakes. How those vibrations reverberate through time and space connecting to me in an almost musical quality. Still, every damn time you laugh it surprises me – that warmth rupturing every ounce of me. And then, just like that, we dance.
I love how rough but soft your hands are – a juxtaposition that hits me with every touch. The soft callouses, the harden blisters. The smoothness of your palm when it squeezes close to mine.
I love how your walk tells a story, and how, with every step that you take you ooze a confidence all your own. But, still, with every step you take, it is never just your own. You carry the weight of others with you. And, somehow, in all the ways you have built your life – there I am.
I love what you say when you don’t say anything at all. When the silence that sits between us screams a million different thoughts and feelings all at once. When there is nothing left to say so our breaths do it for us.
Your smile, your lips, your cheeks, your nose.
I love the little things. How you sit back to relax, how your eyes hold contact, how you speak with such understanding.
I love what makes you, you.
I love you.