.
Dylan's Eyes I
In passion...
His eyes are the color of the evening sky in late fall, or early winter.
I love to look at him then...
He wonders why I like to take walks when it's so cold outside...
Maybe someday I'll tell him...
I wish I could paint... I mean like portraits...
I would paint him at that time of year...
Standing on a bridge with that sky all around him... mirrored by some wide river bellow...
Like ...being surrounded by him...
I love to tease him, and make him chase me...
Those few seconds when I'm on the ground and he's kneeling above me...
That darkening blue...
Like the warmth in his eyes is opening out... Like wings..
Wrapping both of us in …..
His arms pillow my head, keeping it off the cold ground.
I could lay there kissing him forever...
Such sweet kisses...warming both of us...
coming back to this, that just sounds so... off. It doesn't really capture the feel I wanted.
I write for a living now. You'd think I'd have an easier time saying what I mean...
I decided to write because I can do that anywhere and we found out the first time he had to go away for three months that neither of us is willing to deal with that kind of separation.
He likes my writhing.
He's not a very patient person except when it comes to me.
Even if he really likes one of my stories or books, he never tries to get me to tell what's going on till I'm ready to share it.
I go to most of his games, even though I don't really like Hockey all THAT much.
I LOVE watching HIM!
It's a standing joke with his teammates that the reason it took me so long to learn some of their names was because I just didn't 'see' them, that I only really see Dylan !
No. I'll never admit how close to the truth that is!
I've learned to never argue with him before a game
I don't even remember why I was so angry...
I told him he could forget about me coming to the game and stormed out while he was getting ready.
When I'd walked around for a while, I felt bad about it. He was probably right (he usually is) about whatever it was anyway.
Did I tell you I sometimes (as he's been trying to tell me since the first time he asked me out) get bent out of shape over things that aren't that important in the long run?
I did go to his game.
Getting there late, I stood at the rail.
I'd intended to just find him and try to stay unnoticed till the game was over... But I got caught-up watching him handle the puck in that seemingly effortless way he has.
It's like watching a magic trick almost; the puck moving like it's magnetized to the stick, or riding it or something ..
In those moments, he is so focused...so locked in … so perfectly in-tune...
It's like watching a dance, every move sure, powerful, necessary, not a step wasted..beautiful...
His teammates help clear the way, but even when someone gets through to him they rarely seem to be noticed as he goes by them... Even when he knocks one of them out of his way...
Those beautiful, now ice-blue eyes only flick between puck and goal.
Of course he scored!
When he turned to the raise his arms at the cheering fans he saw me there...
Taking off his helmet he smiled and waved it, at Me!
Neither of us saw the last player he'd knocked down till it was too late...
He hit him soo hard. Hit him with his bare fist.
We didn't find out about the roll of coins until a while later.