Reunited

A poem about a reunion between a couple, and the story behind it.

Glancing up. Not mine yet. It’s that foot tapping anticipation. Eagerly re-counting how many stops there are before you reach yours. You already know the number. Just something to do. To force the minutes to go faster.

Strangers board as the stops go by. Blast of cold air through the automatic doors each time. Shuffle in as they find a space. As the minutes go by. This push and pull as you speed and slow. Open and close. In and out. They come and go so calmly, as you wait impatiently.

You try some phone scrolling distraction. But nothing quells the familiar gurgle-y movement in your belly. Which threatens to rise into your chest. Deep breaths. Keep it at bay.

You’ve dutifully waited for this moment, and now that it’s nearly upon you there’s no measured patience left. You want to run there to hurry it into fruition.

It’s been over a month since I’ve seen her, and before that the gaps were longer. Brief meetings peppered across half a year. Months of slow, silent days and missed calls. Moments snatched, battling time zones. A longing deep inside to just turn over in bed and see her head on the pillow, to easily move a foot towards her leg and feel the heat.

I’m running through everything I want to say. Nice shirt, what’s up, I love you. All the things and non things I want to do and not do. Mostly I want to kiss her and make her laugh and get annoyed at her biting her nails. It’s so close now I can close my eyes and sense the joy prickle down my arms as I imagine our smiles greeting each other.

I’m thrusted forward, jolting my attention. Start and stop as we weave to my station. I see the name and grip my things, already ready to disembark.

And then I’m there. And I’m walking towards her. And she beams and I try not to run. And she drops her bags and her skin is so soft and I’m reminded of how much I missed her smell. And I nestle my face in that perfectly shaped nook in her neck and we breath in time as our bodies enjoy the re syncing.

It’s so familiar yet we’re shy, and we giggle as our eyes meet. Hello. I say. Hey little baby. She jokes.

My body sighs out some of those endless days of longing and hardness. The flutter of the end passes my awareness, my pesky mind giving me a warning. It’s ok I tell it. We have this now, and it’s just the beginning.

I pick up her bag and we find each other’s hands as we walk through the station. Our fingers play with each other, clasping one way and then another, interlocking and cupping, like they’re doing their own re meeting. Taking their time to enjoy their little dance. As we are reunited.

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Check out more of my poetry here: Meryl Rowlands (@merylrowlands.poetry) • Instagram photos and videos