This Is Why I Wish You Lived Nearby

It couldn't have been more beautiful here today. Perfect temperatures. The bluest skies. A slight breeze, just a kiss, no more. The hills were, truly, alive.

I took a walk today. A long walk. It felt so good. But I missed you. It would have been so much nicer to have you walking alongside me. We would have talked. About stuff. We'd have had one of those talks that meander along and take sudden twists and turns, but it's OK, because we'd have known we'd have plenty of time to go back to what we'd left unfinished. It would have brought us closer, though we wouldn't have said so. I'd have learned something new about you; you'd have made me laugh at an unexpected moment. We'd have discovered a single, secret semi-sin which we have in common, and from now on, we'd have that as a joke between us.

And when we got closer to home, we'd have looked at each other, slowed our steps for a second, and then one of us would have said, "Wanna just go up a couple of blocks more before we go in?" And the other of us would have said, "Hell, yeah." And we'd have walked a little more, and then stood outside whichever of our houses we got to first, tying off the loose ends of our conversation, making plans for another walk another day.

This is why I wish you lived nearby. Because it would have been a great day for a walk with a friend.