In an instant, it’s like no time has passed. Like none of the months and years and silences existed. You talk a mile a minute, threads of conversations juggled like balls of yarn between us. Running to the restaurant just as it closes, sweet talking the server into letting us order, we don’t need menus, I pile dollar bills into a mountain of tip in gratitude. When we leave, it starts to rain, but we are unfazed, New York looks out for us. New York always looked out for us, it sensed the electricity, knew all it had to do was feed it. We stumble into port authority, this cesspool of city grit and even that looks like an amusement park, a place created just for our whims.
I knew that fateful day that it wasn’t the end, knew that there was something worth holding onto despite the weight in my chest. Told myself not to throw the baby out with the bath water and I was right.
Sometimes the reminders come just when we need them.
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