The first time we talked about it, was on a dock, in the rain. We had gone out to watch the sunset when a sudden squall came up behind us and we ended up laughing and drenched.
What are we? Where is this going?
I said why do we need to define it? Why can’t we just be? We will have adventures and see what unfolds.
But then he died and all of a sudden it matters that he had no label. Labels create expectations and pressures that we did not want – but labels also keep life tidy.
I stumble when someone asks why I’m sad. Who died? For simplicity’s sake, I call him my boyfriend but that diminishes him somehow. Boyfriends seem temporary. Replaceable.
I was his bumblebee. His boo. His love.
He was my heartbeat. My tomorrow.
He was Sam to my Suzie. Which I suppose may make him my muskrat.
Maybe we don’t assign enough value to the simple word “friend.”
“Oh he/she is just a friend.”
Funny the things that bother you later.