As I sit here listening to you through my phone,
I can't help but think how familiar you've become.
Your smell as you walk into my room,
and the sounds of your guitar played so simply
while trying to figure out just the right chord.
Your laugh when you look at something embarrassing,
and the little symphony of noises you make
while falling asleep.
You see, the truth is, I don't mind.
I don't mind being familiar with these things.
I don't mind that you don't always want to talk,
but that you want my presence anyways.
I don't mind watching videos of you
in your younger years and listening to the
sentimental pop music that accompanies it.
The truth is, I rather like them.
I like feeling the familiar curve of your body
when it's curled against mine.
I like that you look to me during scary movies,
even though I'm just as afraid.
Familiarity isn't just an empty word.
For most, it's the feeling you get when you
walk in the front door after being gone a long time.
For me, it's the feeling I get when I walk through the front door
of a caribou, or a movie theater, or baseball stadium...
and see you waiting on the other side.