We Said A Lot of Things That Night
We said a lot of things that night. Curled up on the worn, green sofa with a blanket and a chipped mug full of ice cream. Things that at the day’s end are worth living for; things that matter. We said a lot of things that matter; whispered words that took off like shooting stars and seemed warm enough to melt the cold of night. We shared both a pillow and our momets of defeat. It was hard, but humbling. It was like repentance and it felt right.
We said a lot of things that night. We thought that maybe we didn’t really know what we thought about things. We decided that words like “maybe” are scary. And phrases like “I don’t know” and “only time will tell” are even worse than maybe. We decided that loving other people is scary. We thought that maybe the glory was in the effort. We decided to try.
We said a lot of things that night. Parked the car on the side of the road. Stood still in the quiet for more than a moment. The skyscape was bright even through the papermill’s foggy blanket. He took my hand and spun me around. We danced utop that hill like it meant forever. We said a lot just standing there, wishing things were different.
We said a lot of things that night, in the dusty parking lot behind the bright lights and beer stands. Things that keep people from trusting again. I yelled and cried and demanded to be taken home. He took me home and drove away. So I said a lot of things that night. Asked God for help, but felt alone. Decided to forget about the things we said and threw his hat into the river as I sped across the overpass.
We said a lot of things that night. I tried to tell Him everything, but I couldn’t remember how to be honest anymore. So I tried my best to fake a smile. Wondered what it was like to not be so complicated. He knew that I was complicated. But I was exhausted so I just clung to his side and listened for His steady voice along with the symphony played by a rickety old house and the lullubuys made by the wind.
We said a lot of things that night. He told me that it seemed like pride was the real problem. I told Him that it seemed like people are just really scared to love one another. I said it, but I didn’t fully know what I thought about it. I was just talking. It seemed true though. And he didn’t argue. So I kept talking until my heavy lids imprisoned my weary eyes and I reevaluated our agreement once again before morning came.
We said a lot of things that night. Figured out that we were all that was real. That everybody else would come and go, but we would last forever. And I believed Him. He told me to stop telling the others so much and expecting them to understand. He said to trust Him. So I did. And then we said a lot of things that night.