This one is to Ruth, and all of you who knew
That what your heart was screaming was legitimate and true.
So the electric butterflies fly rampant in your stomach. There is an ache that is itself a ticking clock--Every time the hands tick, the sound it ripples through your being, a tidal wave of impatience.
Who can explain this ache? Only those who've known it. So, where is the significance when I've known it many, many times?
Who's to say that this isn't just a repeat of the last twenty-five?
But what if I chose?
What if I closed my eyes, took a breath, and embraced the ache?
What if, in the space between two ticks of the second hand, my heart stopped beating, and in the silence and breathlessness of that tiny, tiny moment, I whispered yes?
Would that make the difference?
This one is to Ruth, and all of you who knew.