Sparq?

I asked you out because I like you, yes.

And I thought, if you said yes, it would be fun.

It’s always fun to spend time with you. Even if it leaves me shaking my head. Maybe especially when I leave confused.

And I thought your kids would enjoy it, too.

That’s all I wanted. All I was looking for. Two adults, two children (or is it three children? Tickets please). Simple, uncomplicated, no expectations. Just a fun time.

And then you had to go make it exceptional.

For your kids. And for me. And I hope, for you.

You were having a painful day, painful weekend. And you made magic. I hope you knew that, and were taking it in for yourself, too.

And I didn’t know what to do with that except roll with it. Which is, of course, the right answer. So I did it anyway.

You know how it went. Blindfolds, funny voices, too many turns, seeing again, tickets, refreshments, seats, movie, and the quiet drive home.

Looking back, from just a few days out, I am beginning to realize it was so much more. Or, it might be.

Anyway, there’s a reason I’m writing this. I had mentioned that people would talk if I parked at your place. You said, “So, they’ll talk anyway.” I’m not worried; neither are you. So I’ve been quietly telling my friends about what a pleasant evening I had with you and the lit’l ones. It was everything that I enjoy in a “date” and what going-out as adults should be: no expections, no need to impress, no questioning ourselves. Just a simply fine time.

But when we hugged, one hand on your waist, my face buried in your hair…

I felt something. Something I wasn’t expecting. I found something I wasn’t even looking for.

A sparq?

 

Did you find it, too

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