I open my eyes to see a black ceiling. Not black, but deep blue. Moonlight enters the room through my cheap blinds. Suddenly, I see a red and a blue flash enter the room. At least once a night for 3 months I have seen it blink red and blue in my apartment. I close my eyes and let my other senses see. I hear thumps and crashes and mindless screams below me. Doors closing, loud music, children crying. The smell of grass seeps through the cracks in my door.

If this is all you read, you would imagine my life as small, poor, lonely and insignificant. And in many ways, it is. In many ways, I have nothing. And in many ways I have it all.

My eyes are still closed and I can feel her breathing. I can’t hear her breathe but I feel the rhythm of her chest on my ribs. I feel the curls of her hair rub against my nose. I open one eye to see his head resting so naturally in the cleft of my chest. Slowly, I slide my hand down his shirt and caress his bare back. My fingers slide down the ridges of her spine. She looks at me, opens her eyes slightly and whispers, “Abee, I have to go. But I don’t want to” and leans her head on my chest. I reply in a whisper, “then don’t do it.” She looks at me, smiles, says “okay”

I know that the reality of the world around me tells me that it is 11:00 pm in Virginia Beach. However, in this room, it feels like 3:00 am in a small town in some exotic country. A kind of city where nobody knows anybody. A kind of city where people will be alone. A kind of city where young love can last. I love to imagine going to a far away place. A place that takes me away from the pain and bitterness that is stirring in my city. And suddenly, that thought of pain, that moment of weakness, opens a floodgate of fear. I keep wondering why him? She Loves Me? She loves him? I feel weak, I feel betrayed, I feel … human.

I stop allowing myself to think and just rub my hand on her warm back. It makes the fears go away. It makes me think that this room and this time is special. As if there was never another time and place like the time and place we are now. And in many ways that is a true statement. There will never be another time and place like now. I will never rub my hands on his back in the same way. And she will never rest her head on my chest in the same way. And the moon will never filter through the blinds in the same way. This makes this moment unique. And this uniqueness makes this moment perfect. Imperfectly perfect.

If this is all you read, you would imagine my life as small, poor, lonely and insignificant. And in many ways, it is. In many ways, I have nothing. And in many ways I have it all.