Watching.

By Ihket

They feel no breeze, the world seems still to them. There is no stillness here, with me, with him. I live in a world of constant motion and sound and it is…remarkable. What was once so terrifying has become a necessary part of my existence and I am connected to this life. He gave that to me. I wish I had the words to make him understand, but too often I do not.

It is here I find the curse in my blessing, knowing the harsh quality of my voice and seeing the flinch perceived by no one but myself. He doesn’t realize I fear for him, he doesn’t know because I can’t tell him. I don’t think he truly grasps that I don’t see his injury with the eyes of his friend or partner. I see his blood with the eyes of his sentinel and that when he bleeds my heart screams and my mind rages against the evidence that I might one day be walking this path alone. I don’t think I could do that. The concept is unfathomable.

Today he is here still walking along side me, and I am watching and living within the energy, the continuous life that radiates from him. I am caught by him, not by his words, or the fact that he punctuates every statement with his hands or even by his face, so expressive that it at times communicates more to me than words ever could, no I am caught by him. I am caught by the things others can not see, the things that sometimes I can’t see but I always feel. Now if only I could say it.

I envy his ability to communicate with anyone at anytime. I envy the ease with which he adapts to new dynamics. I suspect it’s from a lifetime of watching and a lifetime of being uprooted and transplanted on a regular basis and I realize his adaptability was borne of need. He has turned it into an art and like so many other things about him, it amazes me. Perhaps I can learn by watching him. Maybe I’ll even find the words to tell him how much his life, how much he means to me.

Now he’s watching me, looking to me for something, for understanding, absolution or whatever else he needs to be assured of his place with me. What do I say? How do I give what he needs when I can’t see past the bruises, the paleness of his face, when I still hear the tremor that resides in his voice, when I am fearful of the tremor that will be in my own when I answer? How do I balance my need to keep him safe with his need to do the same for me? How do I reconcile the fact that to keep him in my life where I desperately need him he may someday loose his own?

I thought he was dead. I thought he was dead and I couldn’t reach out with any sense to confirm otherwise. I watched him fall, the look of horror on his face as the man holding him over the ledge let go is seared in my memory. I have seen it every time I have closed my yes since it happened. I thought he was dead. He should have been, but instead of slamming into the pavement he slammed into the fire escape. It saved his life, where I could not. He was lucky, but one day that luck will run out and I will watch him die. If that happens I don’t think I’ll be far behind.

He’s still watching me and I see the pain and uncertainty written in his eyes. What do I do? There is no easy answer here, there are no guarantees either way. He stays and I run the risk of loosing him because of the nature of my job. I send him away and I loose the best friend I’ve ever known. The solution presents its self out of my own need and the knowledge of what I would be missing. I cannot shut him out, I cannot pay that price. I will not spend a lifetime watching from a distance because I chose for him. It is as it always has been his choice to stay or go and I do not have the right to push him toward either option but I know he made his choice the day we met. So I meet his eyes and do the only thing I can do. I usher him into the truck and take him to Wonder Burger.

I still don’t have the words, but I don’t need them. I know that he understands all the things I cannot say. Though one day I will surprise him, until then I’ll keep watching and learning.