I sat on the couch, and looked out the window. I was far enough away from the window that I couldn’t quite tell if it was still snowing. The wind was making that problematic.
It was snowing then, and had been for a while. Everything outside was blanketed in white, the blast of winter reminding us that yes, we were in Calgary. Between the snow, and the company, I didn’t want to go home. She made me feel alive, accepted, amazing, and I didn’t want that to go away.
The snow seemed odd, otherworldly, somehow. It marked a drastic change, that day. I’d helped a friend move the day before. It wasn’t snowing then. Between the drastic weather change, and my own state of mind, it felt like weeks since I’d been there, helping out. Even my body betrayed no evidence of the prior day: I wasn’t sore. I was relaxed, safe here with her, even with the new snow showing no mercy to the almost spring-like city that had existed the day before.
“You look pensive,” she said, lying there with me on the couch. She wasn’t concerned, merely observant. That was her way: calm, collected, and caring.
I took a moment, smiling almost reflexively in response. My seeming pensive wasn’t an accurate reflection of how I felt. I was content, there on that couch, and wanted to stay there.
“I was trying to think of something profound,” I replied, recalling our conversation. We’d been talking, sharing, floating somewhere in between enjoying the quiet and the noise. There were other thoughts I’d had, but I didn’t know how to share them, in that moment. If I was pensive, it was because I was thinking.
Some people have a hard time dealing with success, and in relationships, I’m that person. When things go well, I wonder what I’m missing. Some of that’s pragmatic, and some is overthinking. Whether it’s insecurity, uncertainty, or some other neurosis I’m not qualified to describe, that fear was drifting through my mind that afternoon, even in a time and a place that I wanted to be. It was wonderful to be there, with someone who accepted me as I was, who shared some of my fears,and didn’t dwell on them as much as I did. It was enough that we were together.
Some of that fear is normal, and that’s something I’ve learned. We all have these insecurities and troubles and wonders and worries. Some buried privately in our hearts, hoping that no one ever sees them, and some well out in the open, that we have to live with as we go from day to day. She wanted to know what I thought. That made the fear seem less daunting. Maybe I wasn’t dreaming, maybe this moment, this contentment, here on the couch, was real. I wasn’t pensive, really. Just thinking too much.
I didn’t need to look outside, then. If it was snowing, windy, the kind of weather that would make one hesitate, it didn’t matter, really. The storm would pass soon enough.