He told me he was going to see the world, and asked if I would come with him. He said he was leaving to Guatemala and off to Belize from there and on to Panama for four months and then, who knows.
He asked as we lay in bed on a Tuesday, tea steaming nearby on the bedside table, illuminated by the soft yellow lamp near the window. I watched the tendrils curl up into the light and disappear above somewhere my eyes couldn’t see, near the ceiling. I imagined what it would be like to ride that swirling mist, to be teeny tiny, floating wherever it took me. The joy and swinging turns, like that time he held my hands and spun me around our new kitchen, eyes sparkling and curls getting in his eyes. I’d never loved him more than in that moment.
Would he twirl me if we left?