Kevan is beside me, with his long, skinny fingers wrapped around mine. His thumb taps my palm to the rhythm of the song, and after each tune we tap our pointer fingers together in a mini-applause designed by us. I can't hear him, but I know he's humming along as he bobs his head. And I know his favorite lyrics by the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when they're sung.
"With you, I can be myself
With you, I don't have to be somebody else
It's like putting on my favorite pair of shoes
I like to be with me, when I'm with you."
And in this sweet, happy moment, I get misty-eyed, because it's true. I look at my Peter Pan Converses - my favorite pair of shoes - and look at Kevan's hand in mine. I give it a little squeeze, because there aren't a lot of people I know who really get me like Kevan does. And while I really try to be real and authentic with people, Kevan knows me better than I know myself and draws the "true me" out better than most.
He had to go back to North Carolina this morning, and I am already looking forward to the next time I get to see him. Maybe we'll just listen to music, tapping our thumbs, reclining and looking at the sky... it doesn't really matter, Kev, as long as I just get to be with you.
|Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors|