It is the purest slice of heaven to share a household with you to dream a dream with you to build a life with you in a kitchen without a table we're content to sit on the floor.
"I can't wait to see you."
Dazzled. Humbled.
We share a meal, a game, a show, a movie, an anime. We talk, debate, (the intensity of those eyes), and there's that smile like a burst of sunshine, and that laugh that makes me smile, and we hug and--
You cough and I hold my breath. Are you warm enough? How did you sleep? Do you need a blanket, a glass of water?
All is right with the world only when all is right with you.
Am I a freak? Probably. Weirdo, to love some other mothers' child. Love, complete. "You are family." I cried on the bus but I always cry on the bus. I'm a faulty faucet a weeping willow a salty subject to a menopause mess.
Twenty five, you say? I'll raise you forty-six and childless, an old spinster, a nobody to anybody.
"What if I get used to this?" I laughed. "To having friends?"
You replied, as we walked side by side, "You'll build a life outside your trauma."
Speechless. Graced by your wisdom. Grateful for your friendship, your company, your trust.
You are my honest friend, my Millennial bestie.
You are a strong young man who drew an old maid from a deep well.
You were a good kid in a bad situation.
You were worth listening to. You were worth protecting. You were worth loving. Every moment, every day. You still are.
Believe it.
January 27, 2021