Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Shower Curtain Girl

Little sweetheart, I have a series of beautiful photos of you in the soft daylight streaming through the bathroom in your apartment in the Inner Sunset. You took them in front of the shower curtain there, a montage of images of old Hollywood movie stars. My favorite of these photos is enlarged to poster size, framed and hanging in our bedroom.

But it also reminds of another wonderful memory of you.

Sometimes after you’d closed the door and I’d hear the water running as you were washing your hair or something, I’d hear you call out my name (it brings me to tears just to think of that sound - my name on your lips - is there anything, any sound more blessed?). You’d forgotten something. Maybe you needed a new bottle of conditioner or something and you’d ask me to retrieve it from the hallway closet (even as I type this I can remember perfectly the smell, the smell inside that little linen closet of yours).

I’d find whatever it was that you needed and bring it to you, standing under the cascading stream of hot water. You’d peak around the show curtain, your sweet beautiful smiling face and I’d lean in to kiss you, your hair wet, your skin warm and aglow from the heat.

What a wonderful memory, my little sweetheart. I’m so blessed to have it so very close to me, so close that I can nearly touch evert sensation, nearly touch our life, nearly touch you.

Thank you, my little sweetheart, for finding me. Please let me know that you are near me today and every day. And take me to you the moment heaven will allow. With all my love forever.

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