i got you

Standing at the corner of Lexington and 86th Street this morning, waiting for the light to change, a couple to my right caught my eye. They were in their late forties, maybe early fifties, and she, a good foot shorter than he, had her face tilted up toward his. He was tracing the outlines of her lips with his thick fingers, fixing her lipstick. Making sure she’d colored in the lines. Job done, he squeezed her chin and gave her a kiss on the forehead. The light changed, and we all moved on.

All the while, Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You, Babe” played on my headphones.

It was a moment of unbelievable serendipity, followed quickly by another. This time, a mother and son on the 4 Express train. He played with the cross around her neck; she licked a thumb to smooth his eyebrow. Sonny and Cher were wrapping up,

Then put your little hand in mine
There ain’t no hill or mountain we can’t climb

At Duane Reade this morning, I spied the Easter candy and made a quick pass down the aisles searching for Cadbury Mini Eggs. When I didn’t find them, I had a brief pity party and left the store. I’ve never even had to buy my own Mini Eggs. You see, they’re as much a part of me as the brown eyes and freckles. I do love the Cadbury Mini Eggs. And every Easter, they seem to find their way to me. My sister. A coworker. Boys. Even J has been insightful enough to hunt them down for me.

And because, perhaps, serendipitous moments come in threes, the first email I read this morning was from Harris.

h.
i better see you soon
or else i will be at you doorstep faster than you can say mini eggs
got it?
good.
h.

p.s.-i fucking miss you :)

That doesn’t put the delicious Cadbury Mini Eggs in my greedy little hands, but it does make a girl feel loved. I mean, I can find the candy on my own. It’s just nice to be thought of.

I got you to hold my hand
I got you to understand

Babe.

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