Light It Up

The sun returns, albeit hesitant. Everyone shivers, her childish skin turns to goosebumps with the wind but her determination wins every time: she shows you the jumps and tricks she’s learned over the summer as you both dive into the water a hundred times. Does she remember how you threw her in the air in Central Park all those summers? Does she remember how you raced around their apartment or went to the zoo or jumped off the swings or learned New York slang together years ago? She asks you to read her bed time story and you think nothing matters but this moment and that makes all the difference. He asks later what is the hardest part now and I think of a million things that sound trite, the truth is simply the days were better with you in them. We went back to the water later, the last bars of twilight echoing across the bay as our laughter dissipated with the coming of night; how dark it is in August, how sad.

I drank too much wine, we listened to too many songs, I suppose I spoke a hundred truths but I wouldn’t have it any other way, does he remember we’ve spoken a thousand truths before and I still can’t go to that bar on 23rd street without him, I wouldn’t want to. You carry people you love in your heart: the weight is immense and nothing at all, I would carry you to the ends of the earth and never regret it, please remember that if nothing else. The bartender let us keep the fancy bacon I gifted him in their cooler and asked I didn’t tell the health department. I miss New York so my heart aches, every sorrow borne of love is a treasure. Tomorrow it will rain but soon I will dive in the water again.

Let me show you the tricks I learned. Let me tell you I love you a thousand times still.