Nights on the Veranda
I’m sitting here on the veranda like I have so many nights before. Some were spent alone, some were spent with friends, and some were spent with you. I’m trying to figure out which ones were the best. And while they all have good memories, I know now that if I never had another night on the veranda with you, the others wouldn’t mean anything. You see, without the nights on the veranda with you, I would have nothing to reflect on, on my nights alone, and nothing to talk about for hours on end on nights with my friends. So here I am alone, thinking about you when suddenly I hear footsteps. I look up, and there you are. I can’t help but smile when I see you and it fills me with such joy to see you smile back. You walk over to the swing I’m seated on and sit down next to me. It gently sways back and forth, getting itself used to your presence, as am I, but it doesn’t take long. You look at me and I look back at you. It’s only for a few moments before our gazes return back in front of us.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while before you finally break it; “It’s a nice night” is all you say. And it is, but I know it’s just an attempt to make conversation and avoid what you really want to say, what needs to be said. I look into your eyes, as you look back into mine. I can tell you’re not ready to say it. I can see it, but I can’t be angry because neither am I. Maybe one day soon, but until you can, until we can, I’ll just wait. You smile at me and I gratefully return it, with butterflies once again fluttering in my stomach.
I rest my head on your shoulder and just enjoy this moment like I have many nights before. It never goes any further than that because you and I can’t say it, what needs to be said. So until then, as long as we can do this again, I’ll settle for these nights on the veranda.