We have an outdoor sensor for our clock. The other day it fell, so the sensor was in direct sunlight. It got up to 103* at one point. I'm just thinking IT was wishful thinking... I asked Sammy to put Momo away in his room before school. Several times. He finally did. Barely. Sarcastic little... Sammy's new shirt. I so love it! Sammy decided to make a road with flame decorated duct tape and paper. And arrows drawn to show the way to go. I thought it cute and a good use of imagination. And there is this. From here. I want. I NEED. I don't think it would do me any favors, but man. I want. I NEED!
We sat in the car, outside the restaurant, for what seemed hours. We talked low, urgently. We knew time together was scarce and didn't want to squander any of it by actually going inside. A car pulled in across from us and, a moment later, another. The drivers got out nearly synchronized and fell into one another, wrapped in a tight embrace.
Our rekindling of the relationship had been slow, and watching this public display acutely reminded us both of what we had been missing. Fingers crossed the console expanse and found one another. In hushed tones, scared that we would disturb the couple across the way, we discussed who they were. Lovers? Newly dating? Old loves reunited? We settled on lovers, clandestinely meeting before heading back into real life. But, both of us curious, we wanted to know why here and why now? They were clearly older and professional, but why a restaurant parking lot on the outskirts of the city? Why not a posh suite downtown or a secret apartment closed off from prying eyes?
The couple stayed embraced for what seemed hours, solidifying our hypothesis of lovers. What middle aged married couple acts like that on a random afternoon? They began talking, earnestly. I would have given anything to be able to read lips or be a few feet closer to actually hear what was said. Our stories started again: love whisperings, of course, followed by furtive glances and guilt. And then, the unmistakable longing.
Better Than Ezra seemed the perfect backdrop in which to sit, holding hands, voyeuristically watching the scene in front of us play out. Their emotion, reaching a fever pitch. Ours, slowly building, still. The strains swelling for the couple in front of us.
