A Wish Fulfilled Two

Things changed that summer of 1966. He fell in love. She was tiny and blonde, with bright, warm blue eyes. He did not know how he knew this, but he did. He played alone to any who watched. She never left his side in his mind. She rambled and talked, and he admired that about her. It was not that he was shy. He was contemplative. His mind had this gift of instant analysis. He could figure the angles and trajectories, the weight and velocities of all that moved. He counted the ticks between the seconds and listened to the innocence of her voice. She had the cutest lilt as she told a story that excited her. He didn't know how he knew this any more than he knew what she looked like. But know he did.

She was kind, sweet, and gentle. She had a smile in her eyes even through the tears. She cried a lot, he knew, but most of it was from joy. He admired that about her. She was generous with her emotions. He could not afford them. He hardly ever cried. He hardly ever smiled except with her. That smile was for her. She was the only one who ever saw it. It hid in the corners of his mouth. He felt it more than he saw it, but it was there, he knew. Pensive. That was the word his parents used. "Pensive little bastard." Engaged in, involving, or reflecting deep or serious thought. He had looked it up. He looked up the word bastard, too. Born of parents not married to one another. He did not put much thought into that. He did not put much thought into them at all. He could not see a connection to them at all if he was honest about it. Perhaps they had stolen him, he sometimes thought. For what his parents lacked, his grandparents made up for. That and the little girl.”

What if I was only meant to write for you? That this is what it was always about? What if my only purpose was to make you fall in love and find your heart again? That the universe wanted the world to know your heart? To be honest with you, I’m good with that. I found everything I ever wanted in you.