[Si] TV

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I knew one day that it would come, the time to return home, to where the heart is, but instead it felt like I was leaving it for the first time. Curious, familiar, and yet still estranged eyes looked out to me. To me; quietly chuckling to herself in secret. I must have felt and seemed like a child at age 25, knowing I must return to a life, one that was no longer, could no longer be mine. I didn’t want to leave the toy store; I wanted to play, to feel as free as a child does, and to be happy. This life I created, these feelings I’d given birth to, I didn’t want to leave.

I laid there helpless, knowing that perhaps I’d never see those kind eyes again, those lips I found refuge in, smell her wonderful honey walnut skin, or ever place my hand, shivering, upon those two blue stars drawn upon her canvass body. It was she who brought life into where I thought there was none. And so why did she touch me like that? What should it have mattered whether or not I was beside her still when she would occasionally awake after hours of love shared, naked, and unafraid? Why did she even care at all? And then I knew that those questions where no longer important, but that she did and I knew.

No one else ever notices the tender kindness that lovers exchange on a daily basis. A look from across a bar, a slow approach and hug from behind, quiet nibbles on the ear during a whisper, or the smile that said, “I’m glad you and no one else is here” in the middle of a crowded party; no one ever sees, ever seems to care. I used to hold my breath for what seemed like forever while she would stroke the back of my head in a car ride. I would play petrified so she could sneak up behind me and place her hands in her fleece jacket pockets that I wore and hug me secretly. We saw a movie and not once did she let go of my once always trembling hands. Not once did she move away or push me from her. It was like for that weekend, I was born to be hers and she mine alone. So was I so foolish to believe that I was special?

It felt good, warm, better than my previous life had presented to me thus far. It felt like home. And now I was supposedly returning to it in a matter of hours. I was no longer alone and she was unwavering at my side. I smashed all my insecurities with a blink of an eye and stayed silent, kissing her softly and then looking back up into her gentle eyes to see if this time, too, she would giggle.

Was it out of humor, was it a game, or was it something more than that? Could it have been joy, innocence, or passion? Was the reason why she laughed after I’d press one kiss between her breast be because she, too, found it hard to believe that during such a short period of time in knowing someone, it was possible to be that happy, that at peace, and that comfortable?

I didn’t move out of fear that my body might shiver and show my weakness; to show that I was captivated, flabbergasted, and naïve. I only wanted to hear the beating of her heart; quick and strong. As I waited to hear it tell me to stay, she softly scratched my head passionately, unselfishly, so generously. I starred at her left breast wondering if it, like a rose reaching for the rays of the sun, wanted me to also shower her with rain-drop kisses. I felt her warm stomach and that which lies below hold me like an unforgettable childhood memory.
Still she stroked my neck and back so tenderly. I saw her eyes close and heard her sleeping, while, still, with her generous hands playing with my back, like the wind does to a giant yellow field of daffodils; she swayed with ice-skate nails on my warm, now sweaty shoulder ice-rinks. I wished it was home that I was at; perhaps I was already.