When It Was Enough

It's when the night has become unbearable and my bedroom feels like a cage
I think back to that single solitary night.
You walked in with a mason jar of whiskey and a half-grin on your face.
We sat and talked and drank and talked and once we were both blissfully drunk,
we walked out the door and headed south
because sometimes conversations aren't suited for kitchen tables.

We walked to the waterfall across from the Braithwaite
and I finally confessed how much I hated my life,
how I wanted to be back in Cedar.
I cried as we sat on that bench and you held me
And told me you loved me.

And I know it wasn't the same as when I said it three years before
but it was enough to get me through that night
and subsequent nights since.