The architecture of the city is plural and restless. Your voice comes and goes. The sky was pale blue today. White here and there. Clouds. Whispers. Our dialog is more vivid now. I still see how intense your eyes are. You come and go from me. But I know you never really leave. At least, that is the illusion that keeps me - going? I see patterns. They make sense. Like you made sense a while ago. I can't reason with Love, can I? Love, this palpable, irrational measurement of attachment and desire. I don't know if you are the same anymore. The same I knew. Did I ever know you? It doesn't matter because you fit like a symptom fits a disease. You fit my fantasy. My fantasy was so concrete and so tangible. I play us in my head. If I had. If you had. But history doesn't rewrite itself. I can't walk down the street to try and find you. Unchanged sea. Under the same sheltering sky. I love you.
Like every Monday for years, I come home from work and call my mother. If I call her any other day she wonders if something is wrong, why am I calling? She seems to be doing well at 80. Then I check my e-mails and what friends have posted on line. I got to yours and I just stopped. Five simple words have so much meaning behind them. Almost three years without my father, I miss him every day...
ReplyDeleteEnjoy every minute you can with your mom. I never thought I'd miss my mom this much, simply because I thought she was so strong, she would never leave us. Naive, right? It's not easy to lose a parent. Somehow that changes our lives forever. The more recent the loss, more acutely painful it is. I am sorry about your loss. Thanks for the comment.
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