Love Waits on One Thing

Do you ever watch love movies and think of us?
Not just like, the Notebook or Sweet Home Alabama where the story line fits us almost perfectly, but like in all love movies?
Maybe Jack trembles above Rose after making love and you think of your trembles and the way I teased you?
Maybe it’s the way the very opposite Gerard Butler and Katherine Heigl attract in the Ugly Truth.
I do.
Do you ever lie in bed watching the moon wondering if just maybe I am too?
I do.
Are you ever with someone, even someone you really care about, and for a moment see me instead? Maybe it was the shape of their mouth, the way their hair fell in their face, a face they made at you?
I’ve done that… seen you instead of him…
Do you ever just… miss me? Think of me?
Remember???? Do you ever ever just remember?

A wise movie said, ”Love waits on one thing- the right moment.”
So, when will ours be? Will it come in the future? Did we miss it already?
Was it that first day I stared across the second grade class at you?
Or the first time we split into reading groups?
Was it that first time we kissed by the trailer with a young lookout?
Maybe not.
Maybe it was the time we spent chasing each other around in my backyard.
Was it all the times you called me “peoples” as though you’d forgotten my name?
Or could it have been when we skated side-by-side, nudging each other softly?
Perhaps it was the day I handed you a note with my deepest secret written in code.
Maybe it was the first time we ever really kissed…
The first time I felt your lips on my neck, felt your warm breath in my ear?
Was it the first time you sent chills from the tip of my spine to my ankles?
Or maybe it was that night on the steps, making out for so long, with such intensity that we broke apart to splash cold water on our faces.
Could it have been when I went to your house when you were sick and you walked me home anyway to be sure I was safe?
Or was it when you came to see me when I was sick, dropping a kiss to my forehead that healed me instantly?
Was it the first time we made love, bodies trembling, some combination of fear and pleasure, feeling wrong but more than right?
Maybe it was when you held me while I cried about insignificant fights with my mother.
Or when we played in the sand and I watched the fireworks from the safety of your arms?
Maybe it was making love in the dark, stemming from nothing more than a kiss shared between two people in more than love.
Maybe it was waking up to you and seeing your smile.
Maybe it was falling asleep in your lap, on your chest, inside your arms.
Maybe it hasn’t come yet, maybe it never will.
Maybe our love is false, doesn’t exist. Maybe we’ll never have that moment.