And as sad as it is, the same "out of sight" principle applies to you. Not completely, of course--I don't think I've once forgotten who you were between our visits. But in the long, humdrum times when you are far away, my thoughts of you take on a dingy sort of quality, like a picture frame that's collected some dust. I guess that's a pretty good analogy, that picture frame. I'm not the most dedicated duster, because unless you're looking, dust isn't really that noticeable. Everything looks like it did the day before. And especially pictures, because they sit vertically and collect dust very slowly--it's hard to realize they even have anything on them.

But then one day I get inspired by a Pledge commercial, and I take everything down and wipe every surface until I'm completely disgusted by how dirty I've let things get. And all of a sudden the photograph in the once-dusty frame has new brilliance. I find myself staring at it, slack-jawed, thinking, "That picture was there all the time? I never really saw it!" And of course it was there all the time, and of course I really did see it, but the details and brilliance of it were so faded by the dust that I was missing out.

And just like that, when the waiting is over and you pull up to the door, or when I come through your gate--the dust is gone. I am with you, and it all comes clear again. I am with you, and I see how funny you are. With you, you look at me and I have to do a double take to make sure those eyes really do belong to you and not a magazine cover model, and that they're really looking at me and not the Barbie lookalike behind me. With you I am constantly struck by how well we fit, by how well you anticipate me and catch my stumbles. With you I am constantly one step back, wide-eyed and indebted.

Things get dusty when you are not here. But when you are, I get to fall in love with you all over again, again and again.

I'm getting better at it every time.

fore :: aft