Color Festival, Hot Springs and You

It was really a lot of little things that made me want it.
There you were, at my door. I had failed to exist in the real world for a week, and the shock of reality was hitting me full force. I was worn out, spread thin, and ready to rest. I let you in, the anxiety still left.
You kissed me, and I was still unawares. Slowly, though, the tension began to melt.
The morning with your sisters began clumsily and awkwardly. I was afraid my clothes were too tight, self-conscious about the way I looked, hoping they would like me. I don't think I had ever really cared that much if someone's family liked me (I did care, I just wasn't as acutely aware). I knew it was important to you, because they wanted to meet me and you talked about them all the time.
I wasn't sure if it was ok to touch you--and if you cared if your sisters and nieces saw. I started by subtle leans and pokes and punches. This lead to a green face, but that was ok. You seemed apprehensive, and I wanted to respect that. The temptation was almost too much, however.
My hand found yours, and I gave you one silent kiss, when they weren't around. I couldn't help it. I was now a little addicted to your touch.
You smiled, I saw it through all the colors. I had always wanted to go to the Holi Festival, and here I was.
Although it was fun, I really connected with you at the hot springs. A long hike up, I held your hands from behind. You looked super good in your jeans and black jacket.
An odd sort of attachment was happening. I had realized that the more time you spent with someone, the more you noticed their nuances in body languange and personality. I was now getting in tune with the way you moved and the curve of your smile.
Sitting in the hot springs, you spent a lot of time talking to your nieces, which I completely understood. I wanted them to like me too, so I tried to be nice. It worked, I think? But as we sat together, you reached over and held my chin, looking me in the face full on. It was little things like that, little things that brought me to you.
You rubbed the color from my face and back, a profound tenderness, and me loving the closeness we shared already.
On the hike down, you held my hand, rubbing your fingers against mine, and I felt the cogs in my heart turn a little. Something was happening to me.
I reached back to hold your hand, and you rubbed the top of it, held it with both hands. The decision was closer.
You gave me a heart shaped rock (which I promptly lost, and will forever feel bad about, because I really did want to keep it). Things were happening.
You came upstairs, and I didn't want you to leave. I knew you had to, but I didn't want you to. I squeezed you tight, and finally, with a peck and a squeeze, sent you home.
As I climbed into the hot water to rub the rest of the color from my tie-dyed skin, I knew.
I knew I was ready.

"Our hearts a thumpin' and you."

~ Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison