I Remember All These Beautiful Moments With You

I was looking at the pictures of us from almost two years ago.

Two years. Can you believe it?

I don’t think I’ll ever forget riding on the back of your bike that night. How alive I felt. How brave I felt for getting on. We rode all across Orlando and I remember the air was damp with rain.

Part of me was so scared the bike would slip. But I knew you’d never let anything bad happen and would keep me safe.

At least for that night

I remember I was so nervous to see you that I had to down a double something before I could gather my courage to face you again and meet you in my lobby.

I remember when I saw you. Sitting there. As perfect and poised as I remembered. Just as calm. Just as certain as you’d been since the moment we locked eyes.

I tried really hard to play it cool. And I think you may have bought it. 

You put your jacket on me and told me I had to give you a kiss before you put the helmet on. I did. Again, trying to act like my entire being wasn’t lit up by you. You put the helmet over my head and buckled it around under my chin.

And off we went into the night.

It’s been almost as long since that day in London too. 

Do you remember?

Blood buzzing, my thoughts swirled around in my head like a fervent prayer, scared that you would evaporate before I could touch you.

In front of St Paul’s Cathedral. By the river. That’s where we would meet.

As my body hummed, my friend kept trying to make conversation in vain. I couldn’t focus. You were too close by and my spirit knew.

I jumped off the double decker and stood to the side 

I wanted to see you so bad. But I played dumb when you gave me directions because once again I couldn’t find my courage. 

To stare in those almond eyes meant I couldn’t hide this time. I knew it was written all over my face. I was burning for you and there was no denying it.

But desire won.

And there you were. Standing in the freezing February air, bundled up and searching for me. 

I loved seeing the way you look for me.

I tried to pace my steps as the internal magnet pulsed and pulled me towards you. I finally reached you and rested my head under your chin, thankful you didn’t disappear and that I wasn’t dreaming.

My entire body relaxed like I could finally breathe.

And then we walked

We walked for miles under the grey sky. You saw I was cold and took out your hat and bundled me up. In gentlemanly fashion, you also offered your gloves. I declined. My heart couldn’t allow you to freeze. 

No. 

Not you.

Not your hands.

Not your precious hands that had been ordained to play and create.

We negotiated and you took one glove and I had the other. And so we walked. Hand in hand, equally freezing—but together.

Eventually, the sun disappeared leaving the chill from the River Thames to scald our faces. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything around me.

I was with you.

Do you remember when we had to cross that one street? I was wrapped around your waist facing you and neither of us wanted to let go.

I couldn’t. And you knew.

I walked backwards into oncoming traffic that day. Calm and without fear. I looked into your eyes and noticed they had subtle hints of green .

I want to say you were watching for danger, but I honestly don’t know. I never took my eyes off of you.

You called it “a beautiful moment.”

Can you believe it was two years ago?