the walk from the subway home is one of my very favorite things now. second place is lush in a way that is deeply comforting. just the other night i got home late, followed the usual parade of people out of the mouth of the train, past the rows of brownstones. it was dark, quiet, and i walked slowly studying the different doors and entryways. i was struck by a narrow staircase in one--the beauty of it such that my heart began to ache.
i wonder if you and i will ever live here together, in this particular neighborhood. i wonder if you will find such things beautiful, as i do, staircases and side streets. i wonder where we'll vacation, how we'll spend our saturday mornings, what book will be on your bedside table the first time you invite me over. if you'll have go-to karaoke song. if you'll be braver than me. and i wonder which side of the bed you'll sleep on. if you'll like thunderstorms--that particular green-gray that paints the sky. what you'll let me get away with and what you won't. if you'll like to nap like i do.
i dreamt last night that you were near. surely a gal can hope.
with all this thought and talk about home of late, it is not lost on me, that one day--should i be so lucky--you will be almost the whole of that answer.
yours, always yours