THE PARTING OF YOUR LIPS.
by Judi L
you used to call me when you got to work to say hello even though you just left my bed a half hour ago. that was the beginning of a new, the new, when birds continually sang, the sun always shined at night.
my heart raced with me when I would run into target on the way home from work to pick up a pink top, because people say I look good in pink. so, I figured, you would say the same thing. I would smile leaping back into my car, thinking about how your lips would part as you said “I love you in this.” and you would put your hand at the small of my back and coax me to you and we would dance to our music in the kitchen while the chicken was frying and the biscuits were rising. right then I knew that pink was your favorite color too.
as part of our dessert, you would take me for a ride in your 1982 four-door blue volvo. it was always breezy on those hot summer nights. the car windows would be down, our heads leaning back in laughter. no care in the world. no care in the world.