Everyone writes about the body but always misses the most important part. They talk about the spark in your eye, the taste of your lips, the curve of your neck, the traces in your finger prints. But no author has written about the power of knees.
Sliding against hardwood floors. Supporting every great first, from the beginning of a crawl to the subtle stretch of muscles against the gas pedal and my first taste of adulthood.
The bruises and scrapes from the first day we met. How my clumsy ass made you smile when I tripped over air and your laugh caught my attention.
The feeling of the carpet making way beneath their weight as I sent shivers down your spine. Your knees pressed against my ears echoing with every supple tremble.
Your fingers tapping against your favorite one in beat with the song when I took you to meet my parents for the first time. An absent minded habit you did every time I drove.
Cool ocean water spraying against my skin caused by your gleeful splashing when you wouldn’t slow down your mad dash straight to the sea on the first day of vacation.
The gasp ringing through the air when I finally got down on my knee- your favorite knee- asking the only important question I’ve ever spoken.
The clumsy way mine and yours knocked together the night I made you a forever promise. Tangled together like kids in our own little blanket fortress.
The only girl I’ve ever loved as much as you shrieking “more bouncy more bouncy” straddling my knee -your favorite knee. her favorite- chasing after imaginary cattle on our make believe ranch.
My elbows grinding into them, head in palms as we wait for the doctor to tell us what they’ve learned. A faint little smile concealing the tears in her eyes. “You have a few days to say your goodbyes.”
The thunderous thud as they both hit the floor. Distant sounding glass shattering from the bottle I never wanted to pour. Cheeks stained red from all the sobs you tried to hide. No begging or pleading or second chances left to try. Just a silent “I can’t lose you too” hidden beneath your sigh.
Hardened splinters from an old Oak church pew nailing me to my makeshift alter just like Grandpa used to do. The sounds of heartbreak shaking the heavens as I ask God for forgiveness and to take good care of you. The power of a shame-filled prayer confessing the uncomfortable truth.
See, no one writes about the part of the body that can truly change it all. It carries you through each life altering moment and bears the brunt of the load. I can feel the power surging to my toes. The power of my knees- your favorite part of me.
