Cinnamon, Blueberries, & Other Subjects to fill a Book of Poetry

Epilogue

It's a weird thought, how fast three more months went by. They were amazing, of course, but they were odd too. I think about how odd it was to wake up every day and not have to worry about going to work. I did feel a bit like a dog though, following Reese around while he got ready for work. I told him about it and he said not to worry, he thought it was cute. I've gotten used to waking up with him in my arms, but it still catches me off guard from time to time. I thank for bringing him to me. Or me to him. Even now I'm not sure which one of us needed the other more. I wonder if that makes me a good Christian boy or a terrible one. I'm not sure. The only thing I'm sure about at this moment is that Reece's hair smells a bit like oil and I swear this is the happiest I've ever felt. He would most definitely give me hell for saying that, he always does when I say things like that. He needles me constantly and tells me he isn't sure how I have any time to do anything anymore with how much I spend staring at him and telling him how much I love him. I don't think he's used to it yet, to being loved again. That's okay though. Loving someone means loving everything they are, not in spite, but regardless. At least, I think I might have read that somewhere. Still, I don't think I'll ever run out of wonderful things to say about him, Fran says I could fill an entire book with the things I say. I say I could fill an entire library. Maybe I should. Ever since he read my poetry, Reese has insisted I go about publishing some of it. Maybe I will. He thinks about those things a lot, the future things that is and about how we'll go about with doing anything now that I got fired, or I suppose I could say I quit, and he's looking into going back to school. I'm glad he wants to, he's a whiz with machines and his skills were completely wasted at that musty old mechanic. And, maybe I'm being a little selfish, but I can't help but relish in the fact that I'm the one who gets to see all this come to fruition. To see him pursue this dream.I picture little Reese and I hope he'd be happy, or at least rather smug about it all, then I picture little me and wonder if he would have ever imagined us here. I wonder if he'd hate who we became. I shake the thought out of my head, sitting up a bit. 'Don't think too much about that stuff.' I picture Fran reciting the lecture she'd given me after I left the Oak and subsequently, spiralled. 'Reese worries enough for the both of you lately. All you have to do is sit and look pretty and write your funny little poems and enjoy yourself for once in your life.' I'd been a little offended when she'd said that, but then Reese had laughed and all my problems melted away. He has a way of doing that. But then I look down at him and remember all he's been through and I can't help but worry. And, worry. Then Reece shifts and I worry I've woken him up with all my worrying.

     "What're you doing up s'early?" He asks, voice low and confused, "not as if you have a job to get to." Even half asleep, with bed head and cloudy eyes, he manages to make fun of me. It's comforting. Everything about him is comforting and familiar and I'm hit with such a wave of relief and gratitude that I can't help but laugh. I didn't realise the laughter had turned to sobbing until Reece had his arms around me and was cooing softly into my hair. I catch snippets. 'Sunshine.' 'Perfect.' 'It's okay.' Then,

     "You're getting tears all over my shirt, Sunshine. You better wash it later." He teases, but his voice is soft and gentle and I know he's only trying to make me laugh. So I do, I laugh, and then he laughs and I can't even remember why I was crying in the first place. He pulls back, wiping the tears off my face and kissing my forehead and muttering my name as he cups my face and I just take it all in.

     "Sam.." Then I remember why I was crying. I love him so much. And, it fills my heart near bursting, reminding me of the night on the balcony. I love him so much and I want to tell him. Then, I remember that I can. So I do.

     "I love you, Angel. So much." The corner of his mouth twitches slightly,

     "So much, huh? That's a lot. You sure you're ready for that kind of commitment?" He teases, hands still cupping my face. He doesn't say it back, he never does, but I don't think I mind. It's enough that he lets me say it. I put a hand over his and let myself take in how rough and familiar they feel. I make sure to make eye contact this time, Reese hates sustained eye contact, but I feel it's necessary to get my point across.