a new way to walk.

I remember, from back when I knew you before, the way you walk.

I remember looking up from my book and seeing you return from class while on my park bench. You had this casual swaying gait, always leaning slightly to your right (I think). You carried one of those messenger bags for your books, and so I thought that you swayed that way because of the extra weight on the one side. I notice the way people walk, it's the easiest way to recognize them from a distance when haircolor and approximate body shape let you down. I can't figure out my own walk. I've spied on myself in shop windows and glass doors, but either the angle is bad or I'm too self-conscious to behave naturally. I worry that I swing my hips too much. I wonder what a walk says about the person who owns it, what I am broadcasting to the world. I wonder if anyone else notices and thinks about these things and whether they know what it all means. I wonder, if I do swing my hips too much, what that says about me.

Who knows?

I can still picture you over the top of the book I pretend to read so I don't look like I am waiting for you. And now, after all these years, I see that the sway is yours and not a byproduct of your baggage (not physical anyway, though possibly emotional?), as you come toward me with empty arms, asking me to fill them.

Which I do.