More Time

There are days when everything in the world seems to be stacked against you. No matter where you go, who you turn too, or what you do - it all beats down on you. Pushing you deeper and deeper into an abyss - until there is no more light and it's hard to breath. You're trapped, lost - ready to give in.

And in these moments, I pick out a memory.

This time, it was sitting at a table in a bustling street, under an overcast sky. The clouds above, although grey, glowed brightly - leaving the city in a dull haze. It was breezy. The wind was whipping up and down the cobblestones - tugging at the bottom of my shirt and the cuffs of my jacket before moving on to play with your hair. Each gust reminded us how chilly it was. The kind of cold that nipped at the tops of my ears and tried to get to the back of my neck, between my collar and my skin. But it was the pure kind of cold. That cleaned out your chest with every inhale and exhale. It tasted fresh, blowing in off the bay. All around us people were continuing on with their evenings - sneaking in some quick shopping before the sun slipped away for the night and the shops closed. Seeing them so happy, ducking in and out of stores, laughing, smiling, enjoying their company made me happy. I felt a part of it.

By the time the coffee had arrived, my fingers were desperate to wrap themselves around the mug. Even tucked into my pockets, they couldn't hide from the weather. As we sat there, discussing what we were each going to order, I couldn't help but look at you and only you. Nothing else mattered. The busy city around me fell away. It had been so long. I was still having trouble comprehending that I was actually there. With you. At that moment, even looking over the menu with you made me smile - let alone talking about anything else. When the waiter finally came back over, eager to take our order, I took a leap and chose the grilled octopus skewer. I couldn't be more pleased when they brought it out to me. Laid out in a beautiful pattern, accented by charred shrimp and boiled potatoes. I'll never forget that first bite. Juicy and succulent.  Fresher than any seafood I had ever had.

As we finished our meals, we decided to share a couple glasses of wine and relish in the moment. The more I looked around, I realized I was completely at ease. For one of the first times, there was nothing in my mind except the moment I was presently in. And as we sat there, sipping from our glasses, we continued to talk. Nothing in specific. How things were going, if anything exciting was going on in our respective lives - sharing funny stories. It was the kind of conversation that required little to no effort. It just flowed. Our words drifting out with ease, eventually swept down the street by the passing breeze. And the entire time, I kept taking you in. The curls of your hair, how beautiful your smile was - the way your cheeks became rosy in he cold air. All of it endearing.

Then you were plucked away from the table. By a group of raucous older women who had clearly spent the afternoon and evening shopping. Maybe even enjoying a few cocktails - their laughter echoing out between the buildings. They had requested you help them look for a lost earring. One that had just fallen out in front of our table. So I just sat there, looking down at the cobblestones as well. Trying to spot a glimmer in the remaining sunlight. A few times I stopped to watch you interact with them. Laughing along with them. And then almost as if at the same moment, we had a revelation. To look on the bottom of their shoes - hoping one of them had stepped on it. Bingo. There it was, lodged into the heel of the boot of the woman who was looking for it. After an assortment of "thank you's," they were on their way, back into the heart of the city.

And that is where the memory ends. That one singular moment. Lasting no more than an hour. Seemingly insignificant and small. So how would it help me get back on my feet when I'm feeling lost or dejected? That's simple.

It's another moment I get to spend with you.