We walked in the woods, talked and laughed about nothing, about everything. We sipped on our cool caramel coffee drinks from Dunkin, topped with whipped cream, and swirls of chocolate and cinnamon. We stopped at different trees and tried to identify them by their leaves, we marveled at a giant Magnolia tree we’ve never seen before, I said the baby leaves of the Sycamore looked like small bats waiting to unfold their wings. We gaped at the deer in awe and wonderment, and they stared back at us with equal bewilderment.
Dan, with his easy smile, his sweet green hazel eyes, his quick laugh. Dan, with his witty humor, and his colorful creative mind. Dan, who listened, and was careful, and thoughtful, and kind. Dan, tall, slim, blond, and carelessly shaven. Dan with his oversized sweater, and his baggy jeans, and classy Ray-Bans.
He hugged me hello, and we joked about giving each other the virus. When he hugged me goodbye I wanted to linger, a minute, or twenty. I wanted to be held by Dan for a year. How wonderful it was to be hugged, missed, loved.