I Don't Remember

I don’t remember when it was I realized I loved you.

Maybe it was when you laughed and giggled without control at our cottage neighbour who wore Dixie Cups on her breasts while sunning herself on the front deck where she thought no one could possibly see her.

Maybe it was when your eyes would sparkle and dance, warning me that mischief was about to happen.

Maybe it was the time we went sailing together just before sunset. The boat was small, open cockpit, slight wind puffs rippling the sails and slapping the mast lightly – just enough to keep us moving away from the dock toward the centre of the lake. We laughed then at silly things, much like new lovers do, but we weren’t. At least not then.

The breeze died and we had to paddle back to the cottage dock in the dark. Our bare arms touched. Our legs tight together to give us purchase for our paddling. Breath sounds in the still night air. I don’t remember if that was when I realized I loved you.

I don’t remember when I started dreaming about you. Every night. Sometimes about us. Just us. No kids. Just us. Alone. Just being there in the moment together. Nothing to pretend. Nothing to fake. Just us.

I don’t remember the first time I held you close. Dancing to Roberta Flack. Long into the night when everyone slept. Roberta singing Killing Me Softly or The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. I don’t remember if that’s when I realized I loved you.

I don’t remember when we first kissed. Not that ‘hey, how are you? Good to see you again’ kind of kiss. But a deep kiss. Tongues touching tight. I don’t remember if I touched you then or not. Or if that was when I could butterfly touch the bare skin beneath that light summer blouse you loved to wear.

I don’t remember the first time you ever wrote me a poem. It rang in my emails and I opened it, not breathing. Surprised to see it was from you. I don’t remember the words exactly. I read it over and over and dreamed of us. I printed it out and hid it. I don’t remember where. Not even today.

I don’t remember when we first made love. I don’t remember where. I do remember the rest of it though. At least I think I do.

I don’t remember when it ended between you and me. I think you might have phoned me. And said we couldn’t ever see each other again. Please, promise me, you said. Keep your word, you said. You cried softly and I wanted to reach out and hold you. Tell you it would be ok. Just give us time, I said.

I don’t remember if I cried, if you heard my tears.

I don’t remember all that I said to you then, except for two words.

I promise.

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