Words_August Tenth

It is nearly the end. We are sitting side by side, elbows planted like stems sprouting from the width of the bar. I drink a seven and seven; he orders a Guinness. He plunges right into the unknowns, as if returning to a conversation we had derailed from because of an interruption. He unleashes a surprising peek of what tomorrow might look like; and the next day, and the next year, and the next ten years. It's difficult to really hear it for what it is: bittersweet, transparent, and promising. He is a million things all at once and I am humbled, honored, and rescued. I close out our tab. We drive to his car. It is the end now. We say 'I love you' and kiss goodbye with as much meaning that three weeks apart could possibly mean. He disappears into his car and I am alone in a haze of wonder and tempered excitement. He is the sound of the unlocking and lift away.