Everything she does. I watch her, like a child exploring a new world trying to understand how it fits in, where its place is, if it truly belongs.
Everything she does, to get to know her. Know all the small things – how she holds her coffee cup, how much is most commonly left swirling around in the bottom after the last of it passes her lips…
her lips. How her face rests, the corners of her mouth just hinting a smile, a secret, a delicious mischievousness.
I watch her, everything she does. Things that can never be asked and answered because we don’t even notice them ourselves. The small things, invisible until someone falls in love with every movement, every breath taken. Until someone notices the way we walk and the way we stand still, mesmerized by each moment drawing it in, writing notes on hearts.
I notice how she holds me, touches my hand, almost unconsciously wrapping her fingers around mine, claiming and proclaiming with a gentle strength this heart, terrified but ready…
and I notice with glaring and childish fear when her fingers do not find mine, do not hold them, and I wonder
what I have done wrong or what is in her thoughts or what I might do better or if it is even me but it is my hand that is not being held as mine holds hers and as much as I watch, as much as I learn, as much as I slowly get to know her,
we are still young and fresh in this unfamiliar territory, still exploring, still trying to understand how we fit into this new life,
and there is no guide, no map, nothing we can look to but our hearts
to help us on our way.