Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

–Pablo Neruda

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It happened on the boardwalk.  When you realized I was watching out for you, when you noticed me checking the scene, keeping you safe, you asked me.  You asked me if I watch to protect you.  “Of course,” I said. I considered it a moment: one moment of sweetness that we might remember someday.  Our day at the Jersey shore.  The first time I made you feel safe.  But it was so much more for you.  For you, it was your chance, your chance to put down your guard.  It may have been the first chance of your life.

I noticed your tears before you were sobbing, and in that second before that single shining tear spread to the weeping, in that moment, I really saw you: a smart, strong little girl who has been fighting so long, so long for everything, for everyone. And that’s what you spoke, through your deep gut sobbing, you said, “You mean I don’t have to be ready for a fight at all times?”

“No.” I answered.

“Good.” You sighed. “I am so tired.” And then you started laughing, crying and laughing through your sobs.

“Are you happy or sad?” I asked.

“Both.” You sobbed and laughed, you cried and giggled. You were overjoyed to finally relax, and grief stricken that it took so long.   It was miraculous, the release.

You apologized, of course. You always apologized. You never wanted me to see you this way. You never wanted to be that real to me. I saw you and I never thought to ask you if it scared you.

Moments are funny things. I was focused on the little moment we were having, my machismo making you safe. I was such an ass. I missed the potential big one. The moment I saw you. The moment I really saw you and reassured you, told you that I really liked what I saw. I still do. I could have hugged you then. You could have hugged me back. And maybe, in that embrace, we would both feel safe, for once. No need to watch anyone’s back; no one can hurt us when we are connected.

It could have been that moment, it should have been, but I blew it.

So I want you to know that I get it. I want you to know that I’m sorry. I want you to know that I see potential moments a little bit clearer. I’m so much better at cherishing them now.

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