I saw Joe Sunday. It was maybe one of the best days yet. Not because he was more lucid or made any leaps and bounds of recovery. It was because we spent five hours together without a break in contact. It’s nearly impossible for me to try to explain how I feel for him. Love doesn’t quite sum it up because it seems like such a small word for such a big feeling. I’ve had people try to explain it away, “you just feel like that because he’s unobtainable now.” Or I have people look at me like I’m the world’s biggest idiot. Not everyone, but some. I guess everyone sees this situation with the world view they were brought up with. I don’t even know why I try to explain it. Joe and I have always had more of a spiritual connection, a friendship, a love that blossomed through thousands of words written over two decades of letters. You get to know so much more about a person, especially a person of the opposite sex, when actual sex is not a factor. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in something that is spiritually and mentally bad for you when the sex keeps reeling you in. I’ve done it numerous times. So many I’ve stopped counting. The only thing that was ever missing from mine and Joe’s relationship was the physical. He is probably the nicest guy I’ve ever met. He’s handsome, caring, and generous. He’d help anybody. He loves God. He knows the bible backwards and forward. Sometimes we’d have long talks about religion and God. He’s more spiritual than anything. And we got to know each other over the years so well. And it’s shown the last few times I’ve gone to see him. I’ve gone in with my big smile and shouted out a gleeful “Merry Christmas,” “Happy New Year,” “Happy Sunday.” I even wore an ugly Christmas sweater for Christmas because it’s his favorite holiday and even though I’m slightly Scrooge-ish, I would have dragged a decorated tree in there with me if it was allowed just to chance seeing him smile for a second. I don’t get many smiles from him. He grimaces sometimes, like a child when the dentists asks to see their teeth, but never a smile. It’s like those muscles don’t work anymore and he can’t figure out how to make them. This weekend, though, I got a little bit of a grin from him. Maybe what happened happened because we do know each other so well. The irrational, in love side of me thinks it is because we are psychically connected and we can speak without words. I got there New Year’s Day like I do every Sunday. I walked in thirty minutes early like always. I got searched and frisked and escorted to his room. I did my little Happy New Year song and dance, gave him a kiss on the cheek and grabbed our book that we are reading and the chair I sit in and I scooted his bed over and sat down next to him. I always tell him what day it is and the date. I added the year this time since it changed. I told him what was going on at the house. Mel is fine. The dogs are fine. They all say hi. I told him about my dreary rainy drive and all the gunshots in my hood at midnight the night before and then I recapped the first part of the book and started reading to him. I make sure to touch him the whole time I’m there. I will rub his arm or his hand or his leg or his face or his hair, but I just always touch him because human touch is one of the most important things in life, I think. So I rubbed him and read to him. He started getting antsy and was moving his legs and his arm as if to tell me he had enough of the book. So I asked him if we were done reading. It was as if I could hear him saying yes we were done reading, but I asked him to clarify with a couple of blinks for yes. I think they usually make him do one blink for yes and don’t give him an option for no besides not blinking which I think is a flawed system. So I ask him to blink twice for yes and once for no, that way it’s less confusing. So he blinked twice and I put the book away. I think he just wanted me to rub his head with both hands really, and since he’s the boss, we stopped reading and I started rubbing his face and his eyebrows and running my fingers through his hair which seems to be his favorite because he always closes his eyes. So I did that for a while and sang him a couple of my favorite songs. Usually he keeps his eyes closed, but this time he kept them open the whole time I was singing to him and he just watched my face. Eye contact is a very intimate thing even when it is with someone who cannot speak or move. It’s like we have whole conversations without saying a word. Sometimes we just sit in silence staring at each other and it’s just peaceful. So I went through my whole little concert and we just looked at each other for a while and then he asked me to sing another song with his eyes. This is the part that all the skeptics will start rolling their eyes and calling me crazy and I’m ok with that. I may be crazy, but I asked him what song he wanted me to sing. And we just looked at each other for a minute and out of nowhere Bruno Mars popped into my head. So I said, “Bruno Mars?” and his face changed as if to acknowledge that was right. So then I asked him what song? And again, out of nowhere, it was like the answer appeared in my head. And I said, “the one about the moon?” And he blinked for yes. Then I told him I couldn’t for the life of me remember the words or even the melody. And, again, out of nowhere, it just appeared in my head. And I started singing it to him and when I looked at him, he was grinning (a real grin) in satisfaction, it seemed, that he had so eloquently relayed the message to me without a word. I know it sounds crazy. It is a little crazy to me too, but I don’t even have Bruno Mars in rotation in any of my playlists. Not that I don’t like him, because I do, I just don’t think of him often and the look on Joe’s face when I started singing it, well, it was worth every embarrassing out of tune note and it made me feel deep down inside that he is in there somewhere trying to find his way back.