Excuse me while I have a girl moment. I haven’t had one in a bit.
Tonight is one of those nights where I want to have a reason to get a tad fancy. Like, a couple of steps up from Walmart attire. Okay. Maybe more than a couple given what I’ve seen there recently.
I want a man to knock on my door and greet me with a “Damn, woman!” and a smile he can’t contain while forgetting he has a bouquet of flowers in his hand. I want him to kiss me on the cheek and let my fingertips gently land in the palm of his opened hand before leading me to the passenger side car door he barely beats me to because he knows I’m used to opening my own door but he will never allow me to do again in his presence. I want him to pause before we take off to double check that I’m ready to go, reaching over to gently but firmly grip my hand resting on my knee before moving it over to the gear shift to put it in drive. I want him to keep the radio down but not so low we can’t sign the wrong lyrics to cheesy songs from our youth. And I want him to catch my gaze and shy smile for a brief moment to meet them with a wink and a smile that can’t help but reach his eyes that have the power to caress the broken parts of me that haven’t felt kindness in far too long.
Anything after that doesn’t matter. Whether it’s dinner, a movie, a softly illuminated walk downtown, or bowling because wherever the road leads us to will be a good time had as we both reveal in the reward of getting through a week of hard work.
It’s a night where I want to feel alive with another. Someone safe. Fun. Full of a thirst for life, vigor, and hope. And someone who will remind me that the pages will continue to be written with fresh ink doused in love and possibilities. I want to be reminded that you’re never too old…never too flawed…never too exhausted that you’re incapable of being swept up in what it means to connect to something that others try to describe as love, but is actually something far bigger to ever be contained to a four-letter word.
I want to be her. With him. For just one night. …tonight.
I want a man to knock on my door and greet me with a “Damn, woman!” and a smile he can’t contain while forgetting he has a bouquet of flowers in his hand. I want him to kiss me on the cheek and let my fingertips gently land in the palm of his opened hand before leading me to the passenger side car door he barely beats me to because he knows I’m used to opening my own door but he will never allow me to do again in his presence. I want him to pause before we take off to double check that I’m ready to go, reaching over to gently but firmly grip my hand resting on my knee before moving it over to the gear shift to put it in drive. I want him to keep the radio down but not so low we can’t sign the wrong lyrics to cheesy songs from our youth. And I want him to catch my gaze and shy smile for a brief moment to meet them with a wink and a smile that can’t help but reach his eyes that have the power to caress the broken parts of me that haven’t felt kindness in far too long.
Anything after that doesn’t matter. Whether it’s dinner, a movie, a softly illuminated walk downtown, or bowling because wherever the road leads us to will be a good time had as we both reveal in the reward of getting through a week of hard work.
It’s a night where I want to feel alive with another. Someone safe. Fun. Full of a thirst for life, vigor, and hope. And someone who will remind me that the pages will continue to be written with fresh ink doused in love and possibilities. I want to be reminded that you’re never too old…never too flawed…never too exhausted that you’re incapable of being swept up in what it means to connect to something that others try to describe as love, but is actually something far bigger to ever be contained to a four-letter word.
I want to be her. With him. For just one night. …tonight.
46-50, F
