It was a Wednesday afternoon, and there I was in the passenger seat of a Nissan truck. My car wouldn't start, I'd just come off of my second 9-hour day of work, and I was averaging about four hours of sleep a night. The apartment still wasn't ready, I was running low on money and clothes, and I needed a shower.
But exhausted though I was, tired and dirty and distressed, I looked to my left. There was my beautiful boy, wearing his sunglasses and driving me to wherever I needed to be. I knew that no matter when I called him, he would come to my rescue, but to see it happening was entirely different. And tonight, when I come out of rehearsal, he'll drive me back to my temporary home, give me a kiss goodnight, and get ready to do it all again.
Love is an interesting seed. It can grow wherever it's planted-simplicity or adversity, good days or bad. It grows in the sunshine, the rain, and the cloudy days when the sky just can't decide.
“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he
loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something
terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled
yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a
beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and
you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he
reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist,
and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve
discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”
―
Richard Siken
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