asking do you trust me.

wanting to just hold her hand as we headed down the street.

elbows and shoulders touching.

making up places to walk to, just to have an excuse not to let go of her hand.

finally, back to the house.

wait a moment. i will say. leaving her standing alone, outside.

rushing in. walking back out. smiling, a little.

two drinks, canned, held in one hand.

a quilt draped over that arm.

keeping the other hand free.

so i can hold hers. again.

leading her to that clear space between our house and the next. handing her the drinks, throwing out the quilt.

laying down.

my hands folded beneath my head. looking up to the sky. being able to turn and look at her.

talking, or not.

touching, or not.

and feeling exploding stars all over my body.

deep within my toes.

making me feel like a little kid again. all smiles and pure energy.

yeah.

time to eat lunch.