the front step
If I worked early, you weren't often home when I got home, so I had time to wait and think about you and dinner or plans for the evening.
Often, I would sit out on the front step and wait.
I loved waiting for you, waiting to see you walk or ride up the street. On your bike, I'd hear your bell. And it would make my heart ache.
Walking, you'd saunter up the street, always carrying a bag that looked to heavy for you. Getting closer you'd see me and greet as you always did.
'Hey you!' or 'Muchacho!'
Either would make my blood race and a smile flash across my face.
I still sit on my front step, enjoying the late day sun.
I know you aren't going to come up the street, but I can't help but wait for you.
It is what boys in love do.
They wait for their girl.
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