The lighting was low, the space was crowded and the atmosphere was a bit posh. We were seated amongst the conversations, outdoors on the patio near a fire pit with a single lit candle on the wooden table.
My heart beats for this man I am with and it was his birthday. As we leaned in to share iPhone light to read the menu, I felt the room slowly melt away.
His half smile and thus crooked moustache stared back at me in the dark. In that moment, it was just me and him. Him and me. Just us.
We talked for hours. He shared about his favorite parts of the year, we talked about our communication breakdowns and most amazing breakthroughs, and painted our clear and radical future. We talked about everything and then we talked about nothing. I cried silently inside with the utmost gratitude for this life, for this man and for this moment. Reality check, was it my birthday?
While smiling now and remembering the moments by the fire pit, I realized how beautifully and intently I was listening. Hanging on to every word he spoke, we spoke. Listening so hard.
And it was and is a beautiful irony that we connected on such an intimate level in such the public space that would seemingly not allow it.
Just him and me. Me and him.
I say, let the rooms melt. Listen. Listen so much harder.