The other day, I accidentally posted a fragment of this blog entry. With the addition of this intro, this is the version I had meant to post. Oops. Late night posting has it's risks...
I'm trying to write more, so I pick pretty something and go for it. The more I write, the more I can write. Get into the habit of waiting for he perfect subject, and you'll never get anything done. I like to write about fitness, food, and girls (although lack of girl is not as much fun...). When something runs through my head a million times, I figure I should put it down on "paper." Calling it "inspired" is a stretch, but this is the little event that inspired the thoughts and the writing.
The line at Starbuck's was short; only to the end of the pastry case. But, it was taking forever today. The woman behind me was sighing a lot. A lot. There were so many times when the SBuck's workers made a blunder that was pretty much obvious to everybody but them. Each blunder came with a sigh. Asking some one behind us if they could start a drink for them. "No? Okay..." then they'd move along. What about us? (sigh). Taking out the trash NOW? It's not even full (sigh) and you only think there's nothing to do; what about us? (sigh)
These people were single-tasking, at best (sigh) and she was obviously late for something.
Suddenly, it was my turn. Venti Americano. They asked my name. "Roland" is a challenge. It's comical to see what actually gets written on the cup.
Her turn. Grande Latte. I didn't catch the name.
Suddenly, it was like time had turned inside out. By the time we got to the "pickup your order here" area, the Grande Latte for Missus-X was already there. She grabbed it and headed out. A Venti Americano for "Rollon" was up, so I went for it and headed for the half and half.
On the way over, I noticed her not leaving. She was headed to a big comfy chair instead. She sat, popped the top off her latte, and settled down. She didn't even attempt a sip; just smelled it and sank down into the chair. I saw her entire body go from tense to relaxed in no time at all. I suppose she was late. Late for her latte. From that distance, there's no way I could have heard it, but there it was; the sigh. I could see it. Feel it. It was that big.
There's nothing like it. The soft little sound that says so much, even when it comes with no words.
It was a long walk back to the car through a huge parking lot. We'd walked all day and we were really ready to go. Once we were inside the car and sitting down, we looked out at the long line of red tail lights. It was the line to leave the lot. It looked like a long wait. Before I could put the key in the ignition, I felt her hand on mine; stopping me. She leaned into me, her back against my chest. I felt, saw, and heard her sigh as she relaxed against me. Mmmm... We might have been the last car to leave the lot...
It was about the last day of the class. That's how long it took me back in '88, although I'm no speedier, now. We were finally talking about things that weren't photography. We had seen the same movie, Risky Business, on our first dates. Cheesecake (no toppings) was our dessert of choice. We both liked Pink Floyd and The Sugarcubes. The list went on and on, and we were laughing at all the similarities; finishing each other's sentences and calling out the answers to questions that we both knew exactly how to answer.
We were sort of slowing down as we neared our cars. The moment of truth. My moment, of course.
Hey! She stopped at my Mustang. Imagine. But, then she leaned against the other Mustang. The one I'd parked next to that morning, just to check out. The one that was virtually identical to mine, other than the color. I laughed and leaned against my Mustang.
She asked, "Is that yours?"
I nodded. "You have a blue '67."
"You have green." She paused for a moment, then she sighed. "Uh, do you need more time?"
She wasn't quite awake, but the alarm was due to go off. ...soon. I didn't dare look for the clock. That would be just enough to wake her. A light sleeper this close to wake up time.
It was about dawn and it was still dark. I watched the slow changes in the room as the sun rose behind the drawn curtains. First, her dark silhouette against the even darker background. But, after a few minutes, I could see more. The mole that I loved to touch. The wild strand of hair that she brushed away like it bugged her, only I knew it really didn't. So beautiful.
The soft light from the window showing me more and more. The curve of her hip under the sheet. Her outstretched hand, resting on my leg. I watched as she woke up. Slowly. Her eyes slowly opened. After a moment, the softest, quietest little sound escaped -- "hey." Then the quietest of sighs followed. Too beautiful.