I sit in the car. I said I would wait.

Just be a minute, She said.

So, in the hundred degree heat, I wait. I wait for Her to grab some Beatles albums so we'll have music for the ride to Ikea. For the ride to go pick out some furniture. Some new housewares.

Because the day before we made the decision to move in together. Because we decided to live together.

So, in the car, in the heat, I wait.

I browse my phone. I lean my chair back. I close my eyes.

I wait.

It's not long before the heat gets to me. The heat and the time.

It's been too long. I'm sweating too much. I can't take it.

So I get out of the car. I walk up the driveway. Up the steps of the patio. Into the kitchen.

I walk towards the stairs. Towards Her room, but I see something in my peripheral through the dining room. Something of interest.

It's Her. She's standing in the bathroom before the sink. Splashing water over Her face and staring at Herself in the mirror.

I smile and move closer. It's a hot day. I understand.

But everything changes as I close the distance. Everything always changes.

There's another body in the bathroom.

It's Her mother and she stands there in a blue flower dress with tears in her eyes.

And suddenly I realize the Girl isn't hot. Isn't splashing water on Her bright red cheeks because of the heat and humidity.

I freeze. Gawk silently.

I watch as the mother tells her daughter that everything will be fine. That as long as her daughter is fine, then she, herself, will be fine. Not to worry. It won't be easy, but these are good things. These are good things.

They embrace. They stand locked in each others arms. And I'm soothed into such a state of joy that I don't even realize when the mother turns to me and thanks me.

Thank you, she says. And as she hugs me I feel the tremble beneath her skin. The shudder throughout her being.

And I feel honored. I feel truly honored.