I’m Here
I call moments like these my “little” moments.
She started crying just when I expected her to come.
I kissed her eyes, rolled over next to her, and wrapped my arms around her. I had to resist every urge in my body to asks questions, and so I held her and whispered I’m here over and over again.
She sat up, propping the pillow against the wall behind her as she pulled the blanket up. When she covered her breasts and tucked the covers into her armpits I couldn’t help but think she looked like someone in a film.
She once told me that the way I could love her best was to be present with her no matter what she was feeling. It was easy to share her joy. It was easy to laugh with her and dance when she was happy. Tears, anger, and jealousy? Those were much harder to stay still with.
“I’m not sad,” she said, looking over at me.
That was good. Her sadness was almost more than I could bear.
“I just started to miss you.”
“I’m here,” I said again as I held her hand and kissed her fingers.
“I’m here.”
She sighed when she looked up at me. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were flushed, but her smile lit up the room.
“I know,” she said as she leaned he head against my shoulder.
