I saw your boy today. It’s strange to speak to him in person. It’s a cliche to say he looks like you, isn’t it? He does, though. He really does. He looks good, and he seems happy. Someone is feeding him well and taking care of your young man. I commented on that and he sort of smiled and looked away. Same faint rose flush in his cheeks, like you when I’d say something stupid. I said a lot of stupid things, didn’t I?

He looks good though, and he seems to be doing well. We took a long walk, Devon and I, through your old neighborhood and by your place. Yes, in case you’re wondering, it shook me a bit. If he was troubled by it, he didn’t show it. He shared a lot of memories of growing up there. The places you and he would go. The playground on Dekalb. The diner. Hell, the diner. French toast. You wouldn’t recognize the area now! If you thought it had changed by the time you left you should see it now! As you often said though, nothing stays the same.

Not even you and me. You said that. Not even you and me. Ain’t it the truth.

It was a happy day, Natalie. No grief. Maybe some sadness, but low-key. It’s only now that I’m home that it’s crept up some. Not too much but it’s there. I could never lie to you. I could leave things unsaid, but I could never lie.

He asked me if I miss you though. It was a bit jarring, I admit. I answered right off.

Do I?

Yes, I do.

It’s a rare day when I don’t think about you at all. Mostly it’s a funny little memory of something you’d say. Maybe seeing something and thinking about what you’d have to say. That kind of thing.

There are other times too. Sometimes I’ll be sitting up reading or whatnot and look over at my phone and remember the calls and texts. You’d call for me, and I’d fill my boots and get in a car. There was never a moment of hesitation, I swear. Not fer nuthin’ and I’ll say this all the time, I dread leaving the house once I’m home, but it never occurred to me to say no when you called.

I miss those calls. I miss the anticipation. Sitting in the car on the way. Waiting for you to buzz me in. Hearing you coming down the hall to open the door.

Fucking hell, I miss the way your hair smells! I miss your nails digging into my shoulders when you kissed me at the door.

And I miss a lot of things I’m not going to write about right now.

Except mostly I miss those moments when it was okay to be me just exactly the way I am, or at least was. I miss your zero-judgment. You said once it was zero-expectation but we agreed later that wasn’t it, didn’t we?

I miss being able to sit bare-ass naked with someone and exhale fully and just be. Be what? Be two bare-ass, grown-ass people totally just being ourselves, I suppose. And you know that the sentimental words fail me so this is where this confession should stop.

“Yah got a big, soft heart an’ a big soft head, Bigga. Shush now an’ do dat ting.”

He asked if I miss you.

I do.