I remember how our fingers danced towards each other as your friend insisted we couldn't be "just friends"
My shy smile mirroring yours, the electricity leaping between finger tips as they accidently brushed across the table
I remember the rush of filming whales in Boston, bracing myself against the boat, camera held tight inside my coat against the rain; losing, yet always finding you again
I remember the mini-donuts you'd buy--3 for you and 3 for me, fed from your fingers as our eyes held tight
Your eagerness not to lose me, running back into your house to scribble down your number as I waited in my friend's car
I remember your writing--all in caps--green marker on the inside of a gum package; the mix of courage, shyness and excitement as I picked up the receiver to call for the first time
I remember the first time you kissed me--hidden from our friends in the pool hall; your intensity and passion--the aura of joy and exuberance rising up all around you
I wanted in for the ride, to give you every piece of myself, yet pushed back and forth, afraid
I remember the Blackout--going to bed early and alone, the loneliness I felt as groups and couples danced excitedly outside the house; the beating of my heart as you knocked on my door to pull me out into the starlight; the joy that out of everyone it was me you wanted to spend that night with
I remember your gentleness; your patience with my tears; how afraid I was to lose you--and how my fear was what pushed you away
I remember 7 years spent together, flirting with you and you alone--yours the only validation I needed
I remember slumping on the floor against the couch, the grief of knowing that even begging wasn't enough to make you stay
I remember hope--you wanting to try again--how I held you close when you came in through the door, resting all my fears on your strong shoulders--how the world felt right again
And how those six weeks of you truly trying were the best we'd ever been
I remember finding your ring--tossed among a basketful of odds and ends, knowing that no words, no tears could keep you with me; knowing that I'd failed at loving you; that I loved you, but was never good enough
I remember driving in your car; how you'd turn down the radio when I spoke so you could hear
How no one can pack a box or trunk like you can; how no one can fix a computer like you
And how although you couldn't fix my every problem--and I didn't expect you to--I don't know how I'll solve the smallest puzzle without you
