Reflections on a drive

To The Lady on the Train,

Every time I have to get used to the sensation of missing you all over again. There is an emptiness that is the shape of you that I feel so acutely once we part. It is a place inside of me right next to my heart. 

When last we drove, half lost on streets we should know, we talked and debated, and I wanted to hold your hand.  It took forever to get not very far but I didn’t care and wanted to just drive and talk with you. 

I thought about taking your hand and wondered what you would have done. But I already know. You would have held my hand and your voice and eyes would have changed. I can picture the tilt of your face and the purse of your lips and see your conflict and thoughts and emotions tumble out in a glance.

You would have let me hold your hand and I suspect that part of you maybe wanted me to take your hand and part of you relieved that I never tried. Maybe in taking a little I would be taking too much. That is my greatest fear: taking too much. 

So for now I will take your time when we can. And I will hold in my mind all the images of you that I can grasp. And these I will keep. I have named your brown eyes Always and Forever.

The Man in the Station