You’ll know because the breeze will be warm and friendly and your skin won’t mind it like it used to. You’ll know because my shoulders will hold onto the light and the beams of sun will stretch until they touch down to make new freckles. They’ll scatter along my back and across my face and anywhere else they can find the space. And then the petals that have grown tired of blooming will take flight and leave home and find their way into the almost summer skies. They’ll sprinkle the sidewalks with faded pinks and purples and you’ll slow down to watch them. They’ll weave in and out of the pockets of breath you add to the atmosphere on your walks back. And they’ll follow you like a shadow down all of the avenues you memorized last fall.
You’ll know because the days will stretch longer and brighter and it will feel like we’re meeting for the first time. I’ll be up earlier than the weeks before and you’ll like to stay out until the mornings crawl back and become new again. I’ll take long runs and walks and I’ll trace the perimeter of the city with the tips of my toes and on my own. You’ll keep moving too and your steps will be rushed like you’re late to something. You’ll see the streets and you’ll pass by my front door and all of the shapes will melt and blur. You’ll sprint and I’ll choose the opposite. I’ll like taking my time because the heat trades me clothing for patience. And I’ll wonder where you are and we’ll keep missing each other.
You’ll know because I’ll find the park that lives between us and I’ll choose a bench and cross my legs. My feet will shake and tap like they used to when you would come by and watch my nerves multiply because I was never ready. And I’ll pretend not to think of you and all of the steps you left behind on the winding paths and corners covered in leaves and stones. I’ll bring small stacks of books and papers and I’ll use the crowds of people as distractions. I’ll watch them move and I’ll absorb their blended words and try my best to use their sounds to eclipse my own. I’ll be good at the pretending but I’ll know the difference and I won’t tell.
You’ll know because my skin will start to mimic the temperatures and I’ll blame the new pinks that paint the edges of my face on the sun’s position in the sky. But you’ll see the truth and you won’t have to say anything. And when we see each other again, I’ll try to hide my flush behind the glass doors and the humid air that likes to sit still and watch us. And I’ll act like I didn’t feel your eyes or see your atoms moving towards mine but it won’t work because it never does.