6:45 p.m. - September 04, 2002
A quick thought, messy but warm
I'm ashamed to admit that I miss him and often I reach for the telephone before I remember. It has nothing to do with being weak or angry and everything to do with everything, because that's how it was, my life has been profoundly affected by him in ways that I'm still registering. It's how he'd put his hand on my leg while I drove or in my pocket until I became used to and loved the foreign feeling of closeness. It's how the dimple on his cheek would appear because I could make him laugh, me who can't tell a funny story. The way he would listen and I would talk, all these years of listening to others and rarely talking myself forgotten and he would say Keep talking, I love to listen to your voice and I never ran out of things to say. Wrestling and he'd urge me to give up but never, until I realized it's okay to lose. Inviting himself on my future trip to Peru so he could clear Macchu Piccu of tourists and I could ramble where I liked and feeling secure despite awareness that there is someone out there who knows me.
The trick is to remember everything: he was not the key, the door, or the linchpin; it was all there prior, waiting to be dusted off.
It is not that I felt good being with him because of him. It's that I allowed myself to feel good, period.
I wonder if I will look back and realize this was the one true love I wish everybody has at least once.
