If I’d known you were coming, I might have…
-emptied the compost and wiped down my kitchen counter.
-picked out something decent to wear instead of standing there in my stained shirt and faded jeans.
-reviewed how you told me that I talked too much and wasn’t a good listener.
-come up with some witty reply and tossed in a little jab that would let you know just how much your words hurt.
-prepared myself for the push/pull of my feelings when it comes to you.
-suggested a more neutral place to meet, not the intimacy of my home where you sat with your legs tucked underneath you, eating cookies, and laughing.
-rehearsed a small speech about how it’s not okay to tell someone you’re breaking off with them over one failed communication.
-defended myself since that was a rough patch for me and I thought you were someone who could let me say whatever was on my mind.
-told you no, this was not a good time. That your rejection had hurt me and I didn’t think I could ever trust you again.
But you didn’t tell me you were coming and then there you were. Smiling and holding out your arms for a hug.
And though my guard was up, I stepped up and let you enfold me.
If I’d known you were coming, I might not have forgiven you, but I did.
That is, no doubt, why you made sure I didn’t know you were coming.