S

It was late, but I waited up for you and we pulled a single dining room chair out onto the balcony, where I curled up in your lap. With my head against your chest, my eyes were so sleepy but your heartbeat and your stories and the chill of the night kept me awake. I refused to lose that moment, to leave it by surrendering to sleep. I told you about my father and you told me about your mother and we shared our worries, our heartbreaks, our desires. I found myself completely lost in the depth and sincerity of your voice, lost in the best of ways.

I considered how I'd ended up here in this state of pure contentment. All I'd done was turn my head and there you were. You saw me see you and you just had to walk over. You needed to know me.

Now, a couple weeks and a few phone calls later, I was in your captivating presence again. There, in that moment, I could have sworn I already knew you, that I'd looked into those eyes a thousand times over. The cool breeze held nothing against your warmth or your embrace. You sang to me and it was magnificent and all was well in my world.


Curled up in your lap on the dining room chair, I tore my eyes from yours.  I looked out over cool, misty, early morning Dublin, and I was so very alive.

This,
this is how I remember it.