"you have the most amazing pinky. i just noticed that. i love pinkys and yours is perfect."
as we examine our hands fingers entangled. he complains about his own hands - and i interrupt him to tell him, "i love your hands. they were actually the first thing i noticed about you when we met. please dont wish for any other hands."
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we sit across the table from one another smiling. a table he has set up and cleared space for in the back office for our "breaking of bread." its take out middle eastern food that he asked me to pick up so he would be able to treat me. its actually way beyond dinner time as the clock strikes midnight, but it is the first chance for our schedules to align for more than a few moments. our light hearted conversations eventually becomes serious, as he asks if what i left in Boston and why the emotion in my eyes looks so vivid. caught off guard i explain the elements of the trip that i was internally begging to express to someone, and feel the weight lifted. he listens actively and then comments on the way he can see the emotion in my eyes. more importantly that it adds a new dimension of beauty and he is glad he has experienced it.
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"why do you have such a hard time being pampered? Sit down and enjoy it."
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the realities or just perception of one transplant in her mid-twenties
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