It is all for you. You are everything. You are all that matters to me. You come down the stairs. The moment you enter the living room, it lights up. As if the wattage of the lamps has suddenly leapt. So leaps my heart. There may be a hundred men and women in the room, but the only thing that matters then is you. The magic that you carry springs with every step that you take, as you come forward. 

You come out of the car. I am waiting for you, eagerly, perhaps impatiently, and then you appear all at once. As you take the first fluid step, I watch with pleasure your sinuous advance. You cross the street, seemingly heedless of the traffic, then you are next to me, your magical emergence is complete. Your aroma envelops me. 

You go around the lake. I am thrilled that you agree to take a walk with me, and I choose the trail around the lake nearby. I love to see your hair flying in the morning breeze. Your hand pulsates as you tell me what you felt when you were at the theatre last night. I watch, entranced, as you describe what moved you nearly to tears.

You join me on a kayak. On a whim, we rent a kayak and paddle across the lake. None of us has any practice in paddling. We do it amateurishly, awkwardly. You laugh at me; I try not to laugh at you. It is refreshing to be on the lake, as the cool air brushes our faces. We move the kayak ineptly; you doubt we will ever return to shore. But we do – rapturously. 

You pour tea for me. You feel thirsty and in thirty yards we bivouac to the local tea shop. Hardly anybody is there, and we sit in a quiet corner of the courtyard, in the shade of a tree. When they bring the tray, you arrange the cups and pour the tea yourself. I watch your fingers tilt the pot, stir the milk, and finally pick up your cup. Then you smile at me. 

You point to a trail. It goes through a tunnel, runs next to a skimpy stream and becomes a muddy path through oaks and birches, pines and poplars. I doubt your shoes are right for the trail, but you are irrepressible, and we venture under the tall canopy of trees. You laugh and talk of gardens you saw as a child and walks you took with your dad.

 You speak of your dad. He loved you and played with you. Every day the first thing he did when he returned from work was to pick you up and hug you and kiss you. He sat on the floor and played with you, with your blocks and toys. You remember the time you sat next to your father for long hours – your mother is long gone – as he withered away day after day. You speak of Mil, your only friend from your school days. 

How you loved talking together, sharing stories, exchanging little gifts, and sitting together at the same desk. There were more stories to share when she got married and started a new life. Then came the slow estrangement. Now Mil lives apart, with a son who is half the time inaccessible, on drugs.

You sing. You sit on a truncated tree trunk to rest, with your muddy shoes, and I hang around looking at the sparrows and chickadees singing from some overhead tree twig. Maybe they inspire you. You start singing softly. I listen and watch the thin rays filtering through the mass of leaves to light up your face. 

You look tired, but you smile. As we emerge from the woods, the light is fading. The air has the gentle touch of oncoming dusk. You hold my hand as we trudge toward home. I turn as I hear the rustle of the fallen leaves and expect to see some squirrels. Then you quietly point, and I see a pair of deer standing at the edge of trees.

You pour a glass of water. You give it to me and pour another glass for yourself. The last glow of the sunset is radiating through the large French window and your face looks transfigured. I look at you and think I can keep looking at you for a long time. You turn and our eyes meet.

You have left. I have not seen you in days and weeks. Now it is going to be four months since I last saw you. What is this assignment that keeps you so far away? Is it so critical? Does a relationship mean much to you, I wonder? I wonder too how easily you stay away so long, while I grow restless, assailed by a thousand doubts, longing to see you.

I want to see you and touch you. I want you near me. That is what I live for. You are all that matters. You are everything. It is all for you.