He pulled me closer. My arms tingled with his touch. A current shot through me as he held me in his arms. I still fit snugly in his shape. I laid my head on his chest. Caressing my back, he dug his face in my hair. He loved my white mane much more than I did. His longing for my touch made me melt against him. I wanted time to stand still.
The shuffling of feet and din of people brought me back to my surroundings. Embarrassed, I tried to let go off him. But this meant so much more to him than it meant to me. He hesitated. Slowly, sadly, he let go off me. Through my glistening eyes, I could see him trying to pull his emotions together.
I intertwined my wrinkled fingers with his and we walked away to somewhere quieter. But there wasn’t any quiet to be found. Everywhere prying eyes followed us. With each step, our arms brushed. The thirst was maddening and our control weakening. Not a word was said and the bell rung! It was time for me to leave.
He walked me to the end of the room. Beyond that I was on my own. As I tiptoed to land him a peck, he brushed his stubble against my face and whispered in my ears, “I’ll always love you.”
I pulled him away. Running my fingers through his hair, I kissed him on the mouth. I tasted him while I still could. And then I turned my back on him and left.
As the Alzheimer’s struck me walked away from him, I prayed that the next time he came, I still remembered him. And I know he prayed for the same.