Sentimental Echoes

I should have hugged the guy; he needed it. He sat like a well trained puppy, his big eyes shining while waiting to be included in the group conversation. Eventually we talked some, but maybe I should have done more. I hadn't realized he'd been waiting when he spoke of wanting to be included that evening, clearly happy now that someone was talking to him. We were both sitting at the edge of the people. It would have been easy to be excluded, even though he was kind of a cute guy, someone should have snatched him up. Later, he said it was a long time since a girl hugged him and relaxed with her arm around him. I don't actually know how long we talked or listened to the music. But it was nice to sit with someone, enjoying the harmony of friendly and platonic touch.

His comments reminded me of a night I spent a long time ago with a boy I'll never see again. That long-ago boy was the perfect cuddler, able to sleep curled up face to face and sweetly entwined with no smooshed parts or limbs that go numb without circulation. That one night is so clear in memory and I'm not sure if I'm richer for the experience or poorer as a result of the knowledge I'll never have more than the one time. I sometimes wonder if I'll ever be able to have that perfect night of sleep ever again. I yearn for the contentment that should be conveyed by revisiting the memory.

I hope that sitting together while we listened to the music Saturday night nourished some empty part of that guy's soul. It seemed like he was missing the same kind of human touch that I was when I think of that one night.

Of course maybe he was just looking for a hook-up.