Missing

I miss wintertime. I remember us walking down the street at night, leaving the milonga and going somewhere for coffee. I remember your brown eyes staring at me with such amazement. My words put a spell on you. We talked about architecture, music, life in general. We laughed at several things. We had tea and coffee and it was late. We smiled at each other and we waited for each other. Dancing with you was terrible, but fun. You would walk around nervously and I tried to follow. That’s what tango is supposed to be like: the man leads, the woman follows. Is tango a metaphor for life? I hope not.

Why did I decide to travel down the same path again? If being afraid was already a red flag?

I’ve missed you without realizing it. What am I going to do to let you go? How can I avoid the tears and the disappointment? If I stay, I will be conflicted and I will have to change who I am. As you say, there’s no winning with me.

Photo: Keiko, Hollywood Beach, June 2009.