He told me that that surprise was the best he had gotten in a long time. I know he was telling the truth, they were all telling the truth. They were all overwhelmed with happiness--when they opened the door and couldn't believe we were there, when we walked into the living room and they realized that the voices they heard in the hallway were really ours. And that red shirt, and that smile, and that hand that just rested there on my knee so naturally, and that beautiful spanish accent that would have given me anything for that simple surprise.
I took it for granted that day, during all those days. I took for granted the fact that he cared so deeply, that I myself could be such wonderful gift. I took for granted the night a week prior when he had taken us all out to dinner so that he could spend more time with me. I took for granted the dancing-- the fact that he taught me how to salsa, pushed my hips from side to side, molded me into being more latin--just how I wanted to be. And I took for granted that red shirt and the smile that I can now remember so vividly that went with it.
I see him in pictures now, with that red shirt. It hurts suddenly, seeing it, remembering what used to go with it. It hurts to think that I didn't take that more seriously, that I only miss it in the aftermath, once I've already ruined what was so very simple to hold onto. And I dream of going back to that, to that ease, to that unreasonable lust. I realize that is impossible, but I wish it wasn't. I wish I could hold onto that smile, that I could create it again, and see it in pictures just as sweet as it was that day.
posted by iliza @ 3:20 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home