I want you to know I notice.
I notice when you don’t think anybody notices.
I notice all those quirks and quimbles that make me smile when you come to mind.
There’s more to it than that, though.
I notice when you do your tour and then do some more. Sometimes I want you to do less. Only when doing more isn’t the answer. But even when you do I want you to know that I notice how hard you’re trying. I know it’s often not easy.
When you’re tempted to believe that giving more is a fools errand perpetrated on you by ne-er-do-wells lying in wait, I see your doubt. (The good news is they’re too lazy to take a run at you when you pass. They’ve hardly the wind.)
I also notice when you think you’re alone and nobody can see you, you dance. You’re a pretty good dancer. A lot of shoulders and elbows. I think you should do it in public more often. Why wait for the next wedding?
When you look in the mirror, sometimes you smile. Other times you don’t. I notice both. You’re more attractive when you smile. (How’s that for irony?)
I notice when you’re patient. Especially when you don’t need to be.
I notice when you’re the one that bites their tongue. Especially when you don’t need to be.
I notice when something fills your heart. I notice when it’s broken. You think you’re hiding it but you aren’t. Sometimes there’s not much you can do about that. Sometimes there is.
If you’ve got something to say, sometimes you don’t say it. This isn’t always a good thing and I thought I’d let you know.
There are other things, things you might not notice, that I notice. That’s part of this being a human being thing. We’re uniquely unequipped to notice things about ourselves. Not that we can’t ever. Just that we often don’t. When we do, we don’t see them correctly or, better yet maybe, in their entirety.
But that’s why we have each other.
So here’s to noticing me noticing you.
I think you’re fantastic.
I hope you notice that.
(Now that you know what to say, go find someone to say it to.)
