I’m starting to remember that day more clearly. I remember how intently you were staring at me as I turned the corner and you misjudged the table and dropped that glass. I didn’t want you to pick it up. I had joked about me becoming your mother and called you Bernard and told you to have a seat. I remember you made me a drink too. I remember wondering why we were drinking so early in the day. Crown Royal your favorite. I’m so glad I just drank it. I didn’t say I didn’t want it or even that it was too early in the day. I just drank it. I didn’t know we were celebrating your surrendering. That look of longing, that look of intense love. That look like the day we first met gave you courage to surrender it all for my sake. I’m glad I was happy at that moment making snacks for your game. You telling me my guacamole was restaurant quality made me smile. I’m glad you were happy that day. It was a happy day. You were running with the underdogs, the Falcons. What a good game. I watched you cheering them on while you were slowly accepting your departure. You waited for everyone to leave. Going to their homes, going to bed. Then you came to me not quite ready to go but not wanting to be alone. Thank you for choosing me that day in the beginning and again that day in the end.
For all the times I had to share you it always came down to you and me.