Recently

Recently

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

Sometimes, when I'm lucky, I get to see him puff out his chest as he shows me the books he keeps on his shelves or the presents he got for his birthday.

It is reminiscent of how an 8 year old might show of the new toothbrush he was given by the dentist or proudly display how many Valentine's Day cards he got at school earlier.

Those are the moments when I know I am seeing him.

Just him.

Not the motorcycle dreams or the neon lights; not the quiet hesitations and the second guessed thoughts.

Once, he pulled me away from a dinner table so that we could listen to a song that he couldn't remember the name of, but that he knew he loved.

He hummed along, kind of pitchy, and when I went back inside, the waiter commented on how much my dimples show when I am smiling hard.

I seem to be doing that a lot lately.

I wonder if those are the moments when he can see me.

Just me.

Not the overthought precautionary measures; not the way my hands shake when I'm nervous or how I try to take up as little room as possible.

Once, he introduced me to his friends as someone who is special.

I don't think I'll forget that.

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