December 31, 2008
I remember a time in my life where each day was not remembered for only one key moment. Each hour seemed to have a turning point or a meaning all of its own. I was twenty three years old, working at the beach and living in a house built for wealthy vacationers. I could hear the waves with my balcony doors open, and I could smell the salt on my skin. I was in love.
He was six years older than me. The fact that he was older than my sister made me squirm, but he had those lines in the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He could predict each sunset to the very minute by holding two fingers up between himself and the sun. We won a lot of free drinks off of that talent alone.
He would surprise me too. When I would meet up with friends without him, I would try to sound okay with it, but he knew I would rather him be there. So, at some point in time he would always show up beside me. One time the bartender brought me a shot from “someone at the bar”. I sniffed it, but there was no smell, and then I tasted it. I immediately started to laugh and found his eyes across the bar. He was so coy, sending me a shot of water.
Every morning started with hot showers and lonely goodbyes. There would be calls here and there at the office with hilarious stories about him and his co-workers on the job sites. I was the first one out of the door at five o’clock, so I could find him waiting for me on the front porch.
He was, and I believe still is, one of the most understanding men I know, but if you give him an inch, he knows how to take a mile.
I remember a time in my life where each day was not remembered for only one key moment. Each hour seemed to have a turning point or a meaning all of its own. I was twenty three years old, working at the beach and living in a house built for wealthy vacationers. I could hear the waves with my balcony doors open, and I could smell the salt on my skin. I was in love.
He was six years older than me. The fact that he was older than my sister made me squirm, but he had those lines in the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He could predict each sunset to the very minute by holding two fingers up between himself and the sun. We won a lot of free drinks off of that talent alone.
He would surprise me too. When I would meet up with friends without him, I would try to sound okay with it, but he knew I would rather him be there. So, at some point in time he would always show up beside me. One time the bartender brought me a shot from “someone at the bar”. I sniffed it, but there was no smell, and then I tasted it. I immediately started to laugh and found his eyes across the bar. He was so coy, sending me a shot of water.
Every morning started with hot showers and lonely goodbyes. There would be calls here and there at the office with hilarious stories about him and his co-workers on the job sites. I was the first one out of the door at five o’clock, so I could find him waiting for me on the front porch.
He was, and I believe still is, one of the most understanding men I know, but if you give him an inch, he knows how to take a mile.
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