I swam to the shore yesterday evening to find him waiting barefoot in the water, fixing me with silent piercing eyes. He arrived after I was already long gone, a speck of pink silicone skimming the lake's surface, but he couldn't find me out there in the scope of his sight. And he waited, standing in the water he never enters. I hugged him and he whispered words to me and pretended to be mad, but I could feel it in the way he clung to me. He had been afraid.
And for maybe the first time, I let myself believe he loved me enough to fear losing me.
* * * * *
We walked home to change clothes and then down the street to dinner, talking about the history book I'm reading and how it's shaking me up, and he told me what he learned in his history classes in Mexico all those years ago. Over teriyaki, we smothered rice in hot chili sauce and ate with chopsticks and exchanged words only here and there, comfortable silence. We walked from there to the only store nearby where we could find him a pair of shoes and shorts, and I flashed him a thumbs up as he came out modeling fitted Levis and my heart ached to make him happy .
As we strolled home in the heat of the July evening, we joked as a bubblegum pink Dodge Charger cruised by, "Maybe that's our next car," and speculated about the World Cup finals. In the breeze's caress, I looked up to the towering trees and saw their heads were dipped in gold, spilling down green shoulders. And I said, "What gold is there in all the world better than this?" And he squeezed my hand and smiled, his eyes dancing their familiar way.
I have what seems a few moments in life where I feel I belong; but then I string them all together, these branches dripping gold, and they stretch farther than the length of the lake where I lose myself in its waters and step out again into his arms.
* * * * *
Joining Lisa Jo and the FMF community to the prompt of "Belong."