Up the Block

Her mention of his house killed my night. I can pinpoint the descent of my mood into hell right there, by mere mention of the fact that he lived a scant block away from where we stood. So close to and yet so far from me. The emotional distance meant nothing; his simple physical presence knotted my butterflies to breaking, crippling their wings and making my stomach feel as if a lead weight had settled onto the bottom.

I thought about the distance. Miles to go, inches to travel. Up the block was a place my feet could take me but my mind wouldn't go.. I would show up on his doorstep, looking to get my heart back, and find his arms as closed as ever, forced to that position by his fear of opening them. Of opening them to me.

And that would hurt, the way it's been hurting, sitting angrily next to that lead weight, infinitesimally small and infinitely binding. His was a face that wouldn't fade, that wouldn't go away, that would haunt me for decades.

As I stood there, the distance not to him but to peace crashed into me. It stretched away from me, a lonely path whose very coloring whispered lonliness, insecurity, longing, jealousy. A deeply chilling desire to turn my back on that path gripped me, but my next inhale brought the scent of calm to me. It might look like miles, but the end promised me more of that air. So much of it, in fact, that I might remember how to breathe.

"Wanna walk past? He's probably outside." I looked again at that path, and took another breath of that promised air.

"Nah."

Waiting

I'm waiting for you.

We haven't seen each other much at all, but I know you're on your way.

I met you once in the late night reassurance of a friend, during a lonely time. You dodged in and out of mind, stroked my arm as i reached for another cookie, said the right words at the right times.

You left that night, but I heard you on the radio. You whispered through the tune of that new song I love, reminded me. Soothed my ears with your melody. I knew I'd see you again.

I spoke, and recognized your intellect in the words of a stranger, identified your wit and your humor in the mischevious grin of a child.

I breathed your air on a mountaintop, far from people, voices, crowds, smog. It was a crisp awakening, and in it I saw you once more, opening your eyes next to me with a smile.

You cared gently for my cat the time it swallowed that string, and cradled me in flourescent orange plastic as I sat in the waiting room, needing to hear that he was alright.

You laughed over the beep of my home security system as I set it at night, reminding, cajoling, insisting you'd protect me.

And I was comforted.

I'm waiting for you. I don't know your name, I don't know how tall you are. I don't know if you've ever cared for a cat, or what your favorite color is. But I love you. And I know you're coming as fast as you can. And I'm waiting for you.