July 24, 2002
Time After Time
I'm sitting here trying to think of something quaint or catchy to say about today. Sometimes, though, words fail me.
There wasn't anything special about today. And maybe that's what made today so special.
It amazes me how the simple act of going through a drive-thru can delight me, of doling out the food from the passenger seat, of sharing my orange soda. Little things. Companionable things.
I can't think of the words.
He picked me up at three o'clock today, and I got home about a half an hour ago. We just spend time together. Dates? What are those? I don't need them. I just need him, and a frozen pizza. We'll bake it in the oven and he'll tell me about Germany and I'll be fine. He'll kiss me in his bed and my hair will flop forward into my face and I'll fall back into his arms and we'll talk. I'll smooth the wrinkles in his shirt and he'll wrinkle his face in a smile.
On our way back to my house he brought up my going to school. He said it worried him, because he won't get to see me, and he'll need that. Need me. He's grown accustomed to me, to my face. Who knew I'd be an Eliza Doolittle.
I feel like I could cry.
I asked him if he regrets asking me out, having developed feelings for me at such a bad time in my life. He said no, not at all. And I smile at him and a thousand gossamer thoughts go tumbling through my mind, and the wings bend and pucker. There won't be anymore flying today.
Do I love this boy? This man?
I don't want to meet anyone at school. I don't want to meet anyone at school. I want this slight German boy with his coal black hair and his piercing eyes and his thin wardrobe and his occasional spectacles. I want this well spoken, passionate, quirky character who can't keep his hands out of my hair and lends me ever an ear and often a voice, who sings along and doesn't mind if I do, who shares and is willing to be shared with, who appreciates me not only for what I am but for what I might be, who was looking for someone like me, who found me.
He teases me, but needs my touch.
He asks if I'm scared yet, but worries that he may offend me.
He's small, but his arms encase me, and I'm swallowed, and it's tight and I won't let go.
There was a click. I never heard it, but it was there. Maybe not our first evening out, maybe not our second. But somewhere, not so long ago and yet what seems certainly ages, a little switch flipped itself unknowingly into place. I stopped being awkward and uncomfortable before I was supposed to. I stopped entertaining notions and began to be driven by them.
I've started to fall in love with him.
I feel so sad tonight. It's going to end, or change. I won't have childish hopes for it. I'm over those, now. I won't pretend. I'll relish him, but then I'll have to watch him walk away.
I've started to fall in love with him.
I'm softly panicking. My hourglass is expiring.
I want two things so badly I can taste them. Is my mouth big enough to hold both?
astera at 12:04 a.m.