From Nostalgia to You

I remember you and I
 I remember the summers, the winters, the springs and the autumns too.
 I remember the peace and the excitement as it was yesterday. With you I always felt so high.

 I remember the drive to your folks place.
 I remember the lonely feeling of the seemingly unending drive home.

 I remember the impending feeling of dread wash over me when it began to get late.
 I remember all the times I was this close to asking you on a date.

 I remember thinking I’d built up the courage, only for my words to betray me and my throat to grow dry.
 I remember the fear I felt each time, I was afraid of ruining the moment, how silly was I?

 I remember the look you’d give me when your mum told me an embarrassing story about you when you were younger.
 I remember how you’d try to justify what you did back then or insist that she had it wrong. She’d always declare she knew best because she was your mother.

I remember how desperately your sisters wanted to make me laugh and how much fun they had telling me your worst habit.
 I remember you all play fighting in the living room.
 I remember finding it hilarious when they banded together against the monster you would try to inhabit.

 You couldn’t quite do it justice, could you?

 I remember the sweaty palms I felt when your father asked for a moment to speak privately.
 I remember feeling as though there was thin ice beneath my feet.
 I remember the overwhelming feeling of anxiety.

 I remember what he said, it was the reverse of what I imagined.
 I remember being speechless at the sound of his words.
 I remember how he wanted the best for you and how in that moment we both seemed to hope that was me.

 That gave me what I needed to finally ask you on that date, or so I hoped. Every time I tried my thoughts were met with a fear of ruining the moment. How silly was I?

 I remember sitting on your bed running my fingers through your hair as you rested your head on my lap, tears running down your perfect face.
 I remember feeling a fraction of the pain you constantly tried to hide whenever you felt safe enough to be vulnerable with me.
I remember how much you hated being at your folks place.

 I remember it all you see. Every time we walked the dog, every time we laughed at your sister’s crazy dance moves or her awful jokes.

 I remember your mothers cooking; you and I washing up after and how you’d always flick the water at me.
 I remember how close we’d get as I tried to stop you.
 I remember how still everything would seem in the moment. Then came the embarressment painted on both our faces when your mum walked into the kitchen.

Being with you, I never knew I could feel so free.

I remember it all you see? That'll have to be good enough for me.