I just want to be coming home late, walking up to my Nani’s building… Ringing the buzzer & hearing the way she says “Hellooo”.. Walking over to wait for an elevator, hearing the washer machines going & someone in the main room playing the piano… Or the ladies playing Bingo. I miss it, really. An old creepy guy pacing back&forth in the first floor hallway. & Then getting off the elevator on the third floor & smelling whatever you’ve been cooking while I was out. From pizzelles to meatballs, or even chicken wings. Either way, I knew the door would have the stopper in it & you’d be sitting there in the corner chair; cooking, just watching a game show & waiting for a hug & kiss when I walked in. I loved telling you how my day or night went.. I loved coming home to you. There was never anything like it. I could go on&on for days explaining how every one of our mornings, days, or nights went.. I remember almost every detail…..
I can’t stop watching this. Its incredible how everybody else in the car ducks down after President Kennedy is shot, except Jackie. She puts her arm around him and doesn’t even think to lower herself.
Holy true fucking love.