A scant few minutes
A little stab at a sketch of fiction...
She doesn't know how beautiful she is. I really don't think she does.
She catches up with me in the oddest places -- standing in line at the grocery store, walking on a rainy night downtown, looking out the window as the first light of the morning streaks across my room. I think about her awhile, lose myself in the memory of her smile, and dream.
She touched my heart in ways she'll never know. But, isn't that always the way? Sometimes I don't think we appreciate the most special gifts in life until they are gone.
I'll never forget the first time I saw her. It was winter. Her voice, and her smile, warmed my heart. I tried to tell her a few times how much she's meant to me. But, to quote the song, the right words never come; you just get numb.
I think about her often. I hope she's happy now because she deserves it. I think life has finally turned her way.
You know, I owe her a debt I can never repay. She has no idea what she did for me once. That's the way it should be.
LIfe is good now, calm, comfortable. And yet, from time to time on a cold winter's night, I think of her, and wish with all my heart I could hold her tight, if only for a scant few minutes.
Well, if there's an answer, it's just that it's just that way.