"The Hug"

It was such an expensive night. The stars were diamonds, brilliant among my comprehension and for it to be in the city, full of smog and bad energy it was almost unheard of but here, they were present. The moon itself had shaped in a crescent, some what of a lunar beauty that with it's opulence, colors hinting at gray/yellow it felt like a perfect Autumn night. Breeze swept by playing with my hair, heat prickling at my skin reminding me that it was still summer and yet my attention was muted to these natural delights. I was caught up in the business of the event. Working steadily to make room in the cooler, prepare the register, get chairs and tables out, cones to regulate parking, get the signs for the bar, light the candles and all without a fervent team or even a present one for that matter; everything weighted on my shoulders. People were arriving and to no avail, things were not finish, it was less than impressive. Ruining my favorite sandals, running to and fro, all in the light of surely making a mockery of myself becoming the butt to all jokes. It was a disaster, I was a disaster. Anger welled up in me but unable to show it as the party goers were indelibly watching my every move awaiting me to announce dinner. I could not let my true feelings be shown.

But somehow, he knew.

Asking if I needed any help - serving and putting a hand in where he could but not too much to be in the way or overstep his footing. Careful but watchful. Noticing what I could not show. I paid no mind to his movements, seeing how he would inch closer as I ran making sure that the generator had not blown again. The responsibility of the night had exacerbated my fuel. Approaching empty and nearing mental and physical melt down - he grabbed me. In front of anyone close by. He took me, without pause, in my mid-motion to the door handle. Guided my arms swiftly over his shoulders allowing my hands to meet each other at his nape. Not realizing that his arms, strong and unyielding were at my waist and back, fingers spread, holding my body still and as my reflex reaction, I fought to be uncomfortable. He breathed. I exhaled with him, relaxed, my breast pressed against his frame, breathing together, I was nowhere. I could smell his cologne, his stubble pricking at my face gave proof that I was not dreaming. In my stupor and with only a bit of myself to cling to, he whispered for my ears only, "I know you needed this." How did he know? I mean, anyone knew I was stressed but why did he care? I resovled quickly not wanting to take this moment for granted. I didn't care. I shook my head in my head and decided to forget to analyze. I laid my head on his shoulder and became glutton, using all my senses to take in what only lasted a few seconds. The release was painful. I did not yet ask to be free of this moment. As quickly as it came...it was gone. And that damn door handle lay waiting there for me to open it. I turned it in agony, I felt my limbs protest to the actions my mind was telling them to create. Crossing the threshold, I stood there hoping to remember why I was even coming inside, I stood there holding myself trying not to fall apart. I stood there, trying to measure my feelings, I stood there grasping at comprehension, I stood there - my sister's voice slowly creeping into my ears. "Here's the spoon you wanted." Oh yea, the spoon. That's what I came in for.....