Is it strange that I can remember the last time I felt I was a first thought. I remember standing in that room fresh out of the shower looking in the mirror. Starring at your reflection in the mirror as you stared at me. You had done this, crashing into my world. Trying to give me what I was unable to have…you…us.
I remember the weight of your chin on my shoulder as you leaned in from behind me starring at my face in the mirror. You leaned your head into mine and said “we are going to make a beautiful baby”. Too many years, too late.
I remember the smell of you fresh from sleep, hot musky from your time on the road.
You came to me as soon as you were able, trading favors and goodwill to get on the road to simply be in my presence. I knew in those few hours I mattered to you. I was your first thought. I ached so badly I couldn’t even give it words, breath, light.
Held close, you said all you ever wanted to do was sleep with me, to watch me unafraid and unguarded as I dreamed, hopefully of you, of us. Something so simple. You said it was a gift. A gift.
Your gift to me?
Your first thought.