I often wonder how your days are or what you do on an idle weekend afternoon when the chores are done and the sun shines through your window. I wonder if you have the same white curtains which did not shy away from letting the yellow in. There’s a nursery on the path I often walk on. When I do, I smile about your hoarding of plants, imagining how many you must’ve bought by now. Last I remember, there were seven on your desk alone. I think about whether you still make those indulgent breakfast bowls with the oats, the caramelised apples, the cinnamon.
I wonder if you still have the dreams you had. I hope you’re fighting for them. Knowing you, you’re probably burning the midnight oil. I hope you’ve been resting too. I know your propensity to push yourself to the point of getting sick. We were always the same in that regard. As for me, my dreams have changed since we parted. I’m not very sure of what I want from life, not entirely. I do have an inkling now, though. I’m taking it from there—playing at being a writer lately. You always said I had it in me. Here’s me putting your claim to the test.
I wonder if you still sit near the sea by yourself. I wonder if you still cry looking at the sunset over the water. I hope you wipe the dust off your camera now and then. You always had a good eye for the beauty most people did not pay much attention to. The winter skies often make me think of you. When the sky turns pink in the evening, I can’t help but smile. I hope nothing much has changed on your side of the world. I hope you’re happy. I hope you still laugh.
It occurred to me the other day how my choosing you was always half the story, of how love is not about giving but also, being open to receiving. I hope you have it in you to do the latter when love arrives the next time around. As for me, I’m well on my way. I’ve had the warmest days lately, and if I were being bold, I think I may be happy. I’m always a bit unsure about it without you around, but I will have to get used to it.
I look forward to the day when your name will only be your name and not a quiet implosion. I think I’ll go and read in the sun now.
The desk feels awfully cold all of a sudden.