Hope Floats

There are things that some people might take for granted that I miss doing with a significant other.

Like holding a guy's hand on a chilly spring afternoon while walking down the street to get groceries for dinner.

Like casually throwing in "babe" or "love", or various terms of endearment, in such banal phrases as," Oh, that's just Mean Girls on TV, love." or "Babe, while you're in the kitchen can you get me a glass of orange juice?" Not that I would ever overuse these words... I just miss the feeling of knowing that I could say them to someone.

Like ordering different things at a restaurant and then trying each other's dishes and debating who had a better meal.

Like bypassing a loud, rowdy neighborhood bar filled with boozed up kids right out of college and going to a wine bar instead, where the music is subdued enough to have a meaningful conversation and the candles are bright enough to see that mischievous sparkle in each others' eyes.

Like waking up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason and feeling his arm around me. And moving my body closer to his for a tighter embrace before drifting back to sleep again.

Like placing an order at a bar that's crowded enough that there's not enough space for the two of us. And while placing an order, turning around casually to double check what drinks he wanted, just to catch him checking you out.

Maybe that's why there is a tiny bit of hope in me that is refusing to burn out inside of me.

Maybe that's why I don't turn the ringer of my cell phone off at night - telling others that I only leave my phone on because it serves as an alarm to wake me up, but really, secretly hoping that he will call late after a night out.

Maybe that's why when he does call, I don't answer, but I smile because he still thinks about me too. And it's that feeling of comfort that makes me believe that I am still not over what we once had.

Whatcha doing to me, Hope? Or am I just mistaking you for your cousin - Blind Silliness....