Dear Friend:
What was I hoping for?
You were cooking. I came over.
When you finished we ate in your dining room, one out of many rooms in the house. There are four floors. The dining room has a rich blue wallpaper—it’s a bold choice, but it works. As the evening progressed, I took in more of the house and realized I liked it here.
Dinner was tasty and brief. Afterward, we caught up, laughed, and played a music trivia board game. It made me happy to see you again, though it hasn’t been long.
Your wife joined us for much of the evening. In and out, as she shuffled up the stairs to get the kids to sleep. She, like you, loves fast talking conversations—buzzing jokes, television reviews—one thing to the next. And after a topic gets picked through, it’s odd how still it is. Until we regain our strength, and jump back in for a new round.
We heard one of your sons calling from the top of the stairs. I learned he can’t sleep without a parent. She left to be with him. For the rest of the night, it was only me and you.
I’d been looking forward to seeing you. We changed the plan a few times. At first, we were seeing a movie, but the showings were too late.
When the time to leave arrived, it was all but instant that I was out the door, in my car driving off. A warm hug and quick release.
I was the one who said “I should get out of your hair”, but it was the way you said “Yeah.” that made me leave. You said it, and then there was nothing else to say.
I opened the door and walked out by myself—you were still in the kitchen. It was raining outside, so I ran to my car. I closed the door, and I was alone. I popped in a CD of my choice and enjoyed it a lot. ‘Maybe he’d like this song’, I thought to myself as I tapped my hand on the steering wheel.