I dreamt about you last night. And that hardly ever happens. Not lately. We were on a boat and I was seasick, even though I never get seasick. You stood behind me as I threw up into the water, patting my back through the most violent spasms. You then led me to sit down, tenderly wiping my face clean with a towel, and brought me a glass of water.
I apologized. You shook your head. Asked me if I was feeling better. I nodded.
The hard bench I was sitting on turned into a bed, the magic of dreams, and I rested on my side, arms crossed over my ailing stomach. You stretched out beside me, big spoon, little spoon, and we fell asleep holding hands.
I promise, the next time we see each other I won't be vomiting. But thanks for holding my hair back.