The Front Steps

The darkness of nighttime settled in, and the heat of the day is faded. It's warm, but there is a cool breeze. The leaves in the trees rustle above us. Not much noise- crickets, the donkey on the farm, and the goats in the pen. No words are spoken, but there are thoughts. I put my joint to my lips and draw. He takes a drag from his cigar at the same time. The number of stars in the sky seems to increase each time I look up. The fireflies flash and float about. This time in the quiet, sitting on the front steps, words are spoken.

"Why do you love me? Because there is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone."

"What do you mean? Why I love you, or why am I in love with you?"

"I'll take either."

"It's like when I am at work, and I don't hear from you every so often. I miss you. I need to hear from you. I can love someone and not need to hear from them for a day. Not with you."

"Okay, I'm with you."

"Even though a lot of bullshit has gone on between us, you make me happy.

You make me happy in my soul.

That's loving someone and being in love with someone."

The words hang there. My heart hears them. I am settled by what he says. I take a sip of coffee and another drag off of my joint. The stars are bright. A shooting star flashes and burns out just a quickly as it streaks through the sky. The breeze rustles the leaves still. It is still quiet. And the thoughts are good.