Clint took me to our senior prom, eight years ago. He brought an e.e. cummings book over to my house, and slipped inside the cover was a note that said, "Let's book it to prom."
I've been thinking about that poem today.
Last night was a scary night for us. Clint has been sick this week, and was sleeping on the couch downstairs because he's been coughing nonstop. Around 2am my phone started making noises I've never heard before; it sounded like morse code. It woke me up, so I went downstairs to check on Clint. Everything seemed fine, but just as I was starting to fall asleep again he started yelling my name. I got him what he needed (if you must know, it was a puke bowl) and sat down on the couch. A few minutes later, I heard the bowl drop.
I walked back into the room and he was keeled over, head resting on the counter it hit, eyes rolled back in his head, body shaking and sweating. He's fainted a couple times before, so at first I thought I could just help him gain consciousness quickly -- but this time was different. I held him and shook him and yelled his name for awhile with no response. He made a really weird choking noise and then went totally limp and lifeless. At that point I was basically in hysterics, thinking he was dead (yes I'm dramatic and yes I jump to conclusions, but can you blame me?). I was holding him and trying to reach for the phone to call 911 when he finally came to, really confused.
After a trip to the doctor, everything looks okay. He's feeling better now, and thinks it was no big deal. I'm still a little traumatized. A few hours after it happened, I couldn't stop crying. Thinking the person you love most in life is dead, even if just for a minute? That's a really big deal.
Pretty sure I am going to hug him tight all weekend.