“I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees, but to be quite upfront and completely truthful, you make my body forget it has knees at all.”
The sky was a thick blanket of grey and the cool winds that run along the river were kicking up my hair, inexpertly stuffed under a stocking cap. Bags of groceries and cooking implements in hand, I felt the straps digging into my weary shoulders. It had been a long weekend, one absent of the thing I wanted the most, and I had been silently miserable because of it. I stood there beginning to contemplate the recent things that had brought me to this moment but then I saw you running up the dock, your body moving in ways increasingly familiar to me. It isn’t so much that my heart stopped but paused in the most pleasant of ways. In moments you were on the other side, blackberry brambles, metal, wood, cracked glass and barbed wire between us. A deterrent to trespassers and a strange frame for the one I carry in my heart. I smelled you first, as I always do, something classic and spiced (I could happily drown in that smell). The sensation of your strong hands holding my face, the warmth of you a weather system of its own, your beard against my chilled skin – the perfect kiss sponsored by Portland Bee Balm and Burt’s Bees. What knees?