On a Sunday afternoon, after we have had brunch, we cross a gravelly parking lot. You tease me as I stumble in my brown slingbacks. You wonder if I’ve forgotten how to walk in heels, though these are lower than what I usually wear. You reach for me suddenly, pull me towards you, kiss me passionately, as we stand beneath the canopy of endless blue sky. I am startled. “What was that for?”
“I just wanted to give that to you.”
“I thought you weren’t a PDA kind of guy.”
“I’m not.”
My heart twirling around and around like a little kid trying to make themselves dizzy. Your hand is warm and holds mine tightly. I want the moment to last forever. I relive it often.
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On a Monday afternoon, after we have talked about how we feel and where we are going, we sit in a rental car in the parking lot of a military post store. You stroke my hair over and over, look into my eyes in a way no one ever has. I feel small, young. Our final kiss is ardent. My heart feels like it’s taken a leap off a high mountain peak. You touch my hair again, give me “one last hug.” I watch you walk away as tears fill my eyes.
Why didn’t that moment last forever?
And will I get to relive it?