(I wrote this a while back, but it feels apt today, more than ever.)
An enumeration, because things are not — and may no longer be — the same, after all these is done.
- The subtle brush of skin against skin. A high five here, a quick peck there, fingers running through hairs and arms pulling bodies close.
- Brushing fingers through backs of hands as reminders of presence. Hands guiding backs, arms wrapped around waists, while you navigate crowded places, and meander between, among, through peoples’ busy lives.
- Crowds. And how, despite them, and in spite of my fear of them, I can make my way to you.
- Hugs.
- Laughter shared, stories imparted; the subtle touching of shoulders when chuckles are uncontrollable.
- Laughters that turn into tears.
- Laughters that turn into silent, wheezing manifestations of joy.
- Walking slowly towards, running swiftly towards, jumping unabashedly towards.
- Gazing at sceneries (gazing at you gazing at sceneries) (gazing at you gazing at sceneries and yet – and yet! – secretly gazing at me).
- Possibilities. And possibilities with you.
Of perpetual finds 