October 31, 2012

It could’ve been that very first moment at the train station when I saw your face in a crowd and you made your way over to me and when you grabbed my face and kissed me right there, picked me up, and it was so surreal I barely experienced it. It could’ve been on the ride back to your place when the sky turned purple instead of pink and your song for me came on the radio and I couldn’t stop staring, waiting for that smile I love to quietly creep up on you when you noticed what I was doing. It could’ve been when we laid in your bed for an hour after that just staring, smiling, occasionally laughing and kissing. It might have been watching The Town, laying in bed with my head on your chest, legs tangled with yours, smoking the vape and feeling your chest inflate with the inhale and then mine doing the same when you exhaled with a kiss. Maybe it was when I woke up to the rain of the storm, your kisses on my back, and “beautiful girl” being whispered in my ear. Or even when I turned to face you and the sun shone through the blinds for the first and only time that day; it wasn’t just bright, it shone golden yellow and it hit you from behind. You looked heaven sent and I was sure you were. It could’ve been after the thousandth time I’d said I hated you and the thousand and first time you told me I would. It could’ve been when I felt your kiss again for the first time in a long time, or it could’ve been after I’d been feeling it all weekend. It might have been when I found every spot on your back that makes you shiver if I scratch it, when I felt every goosebump on your skin under my fingertips and smiled. It could’ve been each morning that I woke up to you thinking how much I’d like all of my mornings to be just like it. Maybe it was when I became the big spoon and you got that bashful smile whenever I kissed your cheeks and I pulled you in close the way you always do or when you tried to scratch my back the way I do. It could’ve been when you slapped me in the face with your pants when I tried to help you with your laundry or when I threw up outside Anne’s Market that first night and you never brought it up again. It could’ve been laughing at what a sore loser you were at wine wasted Monopoly or when you cleaned it all up the next morning. Even more likely could be when I laughed uncontrollably at your face when you lost your grip on the table you were moving, “strongest friend you know.” It could’ve been the night before when I was almost asleep and I heard you say “I think I might love you,” just like you had said so many times before. Then when I turned and looked you dead in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity, wondering if my pupils were dilating when I realized yours weren’t. When I finally spoke up and said, plainly but honestly, “I don’t think you do, but I do love you,” and I turned lazily back around. But I think it really could have been immediately after that when you put your arms around me and squeezed me so tightly, because I felt your relief in that hug. When I felt that force, although I knew I was right in my statement, I also knew it meant something to you. Truthfully, I’m not really sure when exactly it happened, but I decided on you all over again. It doesn’t matter when it happened; I love everything with you, everything about you, and I decided on you.