Awkward

they arrive.

first five minutes:

“hi…”

“hey…”

hands hover awkwardly, like perched birds.

I don’t know if I should hug, wave, or just stare.

laughter is polite, careful,

not quite the kind that cracks your chest.

then, ten minutes later:

something snaps.

someone trips over a word,

someone else makes a dumb joke,

and suddenly we’re elbows in ribs,

stories spilling faster than we remember.

the dam bursts.

we are loud, messy,

laughing like we’ve known each other forever ---

because we have.

the awkwardness evaporates,

like it was never real ---

except, of course, I’ll remember it,

because it was.