He has this familiar smell. A smell that been the same for the twenty years i have known him. It is coffee and nicotine and Old Spice. Masculine and sexy and a little bit bad.
But there is nothing about him that is bad. He has this kind soul hidden in the shell of a big guy with a big mouth. Words spew from him in rapid progressions from tender to dirty, reflection and introspection to crass jokes.
He genuinely cares for people. Cares about their health, their wellness. It used to bug me. It bothered me when he would feel sorry for someone who was not well because i wanted him to feel that for me. I kind of missed the point there. He cared for everyone, he cared for me.
It's funny to realize a cliché is true. you don't know what you've got till it's gone. But it's kind of true. And it's true that i'm happy to be living a cliché.
Again this whole thing could go sideways. At any moment the same old holes in the path could suck one of us in and it will all disappear. The big sinkhole. I am familiar with you.
There is no rushing this thing. We must walk so slowly. We like to rush, but when we rush we trip and fall. I will run those train tracks, fill my head with music. Let the rushing happen there. I will take my time with this one. I will enjoy the dancing, the laughing, the being a family. I will take my time alone. I will be there when the time comes to talk. To stop. To talk.
And in the morning when i roll over and smell that old familiar smell in my sheets i will take that pillow under my cheek and i will relax in it. That smell that never changes.