TIme

I begin by counting the days, then the months. I don’t count anything anymore, except the hope that you will return, and the silent fear that in the years since we saw each other this distance—this awful distance, will have changed us both beyond reckoning.

My love where are you? With hope I write to you… as I have always done.

I am still waiting as I promised I would. But, I find myself alone and at the end of my wits. Today, after so many days I decided to go out for a walk. It was supposed to be a chilly night so I decided to wrap my favorite shawl around me before I headed out. Oddly enough, it took me 15 minutes to wrap it around myself. I stood there in front of the mirror; I would try to fix it but it just wouldn’t stay on my shoulders the right way. I was becoming increasingly frustrated since it was not the first time I was wearing this particular shawl. I finally just wrapped it around me however it could be wrapped and went out. It didn’t look the way I wanted it to look, but whatever.

As I walked on I realized how over the years, I had forgotten to wear my own shawl because you always fixed it for me. You fixed everything for me, didn’t you? I get increasingly afraid that time will change us—that time has changed us. You are no more the idealistic guy who talked about dreams and I am no more the silly girl who could talk a mile a minute.

But then again, if I look at myself I am still standing where you had left me. I still cry. I still write. I still go to sleep with my socks on. I still can’t tie my shoe-laces. I still bite my lip frequently. I still read for hours and hours. And I still can’t fix my shawl.

Time stopped for me the day you left. I can walk no more.