We stepped through the door and looked around for something to hold on to. We were in a section where there were no posts or handle bars, so we just tried to stand firm. The train sped away, accelerating from 0 to 95 km/hr in a matter of seconds. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the rush.
The tracks at certain intervals were uneven. We'd both get jolted, but then he'd grab my shirt from behind and keep me from toppling over. We'd laugh over my clumsiness, before it was my turn to save his ass. I'd hold on to his shoulder and smile. He'd understand and clasp my hand tightly in his mind.
I looked at my husband. He tries too hard not to show what he feels when we're out in public. Yet his eyes betray the same emotions in mine. It wasn't always an easy ride. And we only had each other to hold on to. But from months 0 to 95, we have always laughed together.
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the rush of the cool wind. I immediately closed mine. And under cover of imagined isolation, I put my hand tightly around his.
photo from shgay.com