I hadn’t told you, but I’d been craving your presence. Craving the feeling of forgetting the world. Craving the feeling of not looking at a single cowboy that’s walked through that door. Craving one of your whole body hugs that nearly sweeps me off my feet. Craving one of your kisses atop my head that makes me feel completely loved. Craving the verbal affirmations of who you know I am, when I’m feeling the most doubtful of myself. Craving a hearty laugh about some shit that didn’t really matter, and wasn’t really that serious.
“He was just standing here crying.” my housemate told me, obviously just recently awake from a nocturnal bartender nap. Sun shining, arms out, hair a mess, phone in one hand. “He came right to me, though.”
I came home early from work today to fix a fence. I put my boots on for the first time in months, and grabbed the baling wire, for the first time in months. Out to fix a fence: solving my own problems. Grateful already that I wouldn’t have to hear about it later.
It’s interesting, the things you’ll find that remind you of who you are, when you’re feeling the most doubtful of yourself.
The fence was sewn, and the dryer was running, and the floors were freshly swept, when I finally stood up to retreat back inside. I pulled the wild, windy hair from my face long enough to catch a glimpse of a blue chevy headed to my corner fall short. It reversed a bit. “Hey!” He hollered out with a bright smile, a silhouette of his hand through the window.
“Oh my god,” I told the goats. I raised my beer can, and he backed up further onto the shoulder of the road nearest my house.
I walked through the back of the house towards the front door, quietly thanking myself for having just cleaned up. I was walking barefoot through the propped open front door when I heard his boots knocking on the porch. I looked up: “Hi!”
“They’re still letting you work from home, huh?” He grabbed the screen door to keep it from slamming closed with the wind.
“No,” I headed back into the house, “I just left work early today.” I pulled the fridge door open while I walked by on the way through the kitchen. He picked a beer from the back. “I think the porch is probably less windy.” I smiled as I intentionally bumped into him.
“You’re just not the dramatic type,” he told me with wide eyes. “Honestly, your relationship with him never really made sense to me.” He shook his head and took a sip.
“THANKS.” I replied, more enthusiastically than I intended.
“You’ve been through a lot in the last few years,” he told me. “I can’t even imagine.” He curled an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “Still the strongest girl I know.”
I could feel myself turning into a pot of honey.
It’s interesting, the things you’ll find that remind you of who you are, when you’re feeling the most doubtful of yourself.
Wild Little Hare 