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Twisting all the bad things into good

Sep 8, 2013


"Write hard and clear about what hurts"
Ernest Hemingway


"Me too" she said and kissed him again. "So glad."
 She put the side of her face against his chest.
"Jimmy, I don't wanna leave you."
He kissed the top of her head and moved her dirty blonde hair away from her face.
"I don't want you to either" he told her. "I miss you and you're still here."
She hugged him tighter.
"Don't let me leave."
He laughed.
"What about Machu Pichu?"

Her overnight bag was packed on his bed.

"I wish I could put you in my suitcase and take you with me."
"You wanna put me in your suitcase?"
She nodded her head. "Uh huh."
"Let me get this straight," he lifted her off the ground so he could see her face. She was so light. She wrapped her legs around his back and kissed him. He pulled his head away so he could tease her. "No, hold on, lil one. I wanna make sure I heard your brilliant travel plan right. So you wanna put me in your suitcase?"
She laughed. "Yup."
"You, teeny tiny little Lisa, who wears the teeny tiniest little pair of jeans I've ever seen in my life," she laughed, but they really did look like little kid jeans when she wasn't wearing them. "Adorable little you wants to put six foot one inch me into your suitcase and take me on vacation with you? Is that what I'm hearing?" He gave her a quick kiss she wasn't expecting because she was still laughing. "Because that's what it sounds like?"
"That's my plan" she confirmed. "Isn't it super?"
"Super for you, maybe, not so super for me."

Super. That was her word.

She was super.

On his bed behind her, next to her bag, was her copy of her favorite book. She was taking the bag with her, but she was leaving the book with him. She asked him to please read it while she was away.

"Hemingway, huh?"
He felt her nod her head against his chest.
"You're gonna love it" she promised him.
He didn't know if he could love more than one thing at a time.

She raised up on to the tips of her tiny toes, kissed his cheek, and turned away towards her bag. He reached out and held onto her arm, and then her wrist, and then her hand until her fingertips passed over his own.

He never expected it would hurt so much to write about her.

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