xxxv

you stand in front of the glass window and look through until you see a reflection of someone standing behind you. it takes you some time to recognize me after all this time. then you finally realize that it is really me. then you turn around to face me and meet with the same melancholic smile you've been seeing in the mirror all these years.

you take me by my hand and take me to walk under the moonlit skies like we always loved to do. we keep looking at each other and then away to let what we saw in each other sink in and then look at each other again to let more in.

every move of my body makes you curious about what life has in store for you and how you are going to be able to turn it into pure grace.

every twitch on your face makes me grateful for what i've come out of and where i am going and who i have become. i thank you for enduring all that you did so i could be.

you see me lean my head back, look up at the sky, then close my eyes and smile and you wonder how life must have changed after all this time. it doesn't change. life. it doesn't really change, until one day, you look back and nothing is as you remembered.

your sufferings and my pain are still the same. my unsaid words and your unheard complaints are still the same.

the only causes of changes are a little distance from time and a little miracle of hopes.

what changes is that your brain learns to justify and soften every urge and complaint and cry of your heart.

what changes is that you lose your sleep and patience only to beg for them and only them later. and you will have them back, love, the hard way, but sure. and you will come out stronger than ever.

then you realize that the paths are not woven but clear and open for you and only you but the realization does not make up for the lost time. then you look at me and it doesn't hurt so much anymore. because in the end, it is always just you and me.

if life was sand, you'd try to hold a little in your fist forever, but then your palms will start hurting and you'll let go anyway and then the emptiness will start filling you until nothing else can. but what changes is that one day you will realize that the only therapy you need is to sit on that warm sand, rest your palms on it, and let it accumulate between your fingers when it is warm and soft until it is not and then find another spot to rest your delicate tired hands on.

and when it is time for me to leave, you ask me to stay for some time longer. and i stay. i stay for all the times nobody did.

there is peace. there is home. there is unrest. yet, there is a settlement. an acceptance. an understanding. an apology. and some love.

and when again it is time, coming back, i softly ask, “how have you been?” and you don't reply because there is way too much to say to that and it is time. so i look into your eyes, tuck back the hair behind your ears, caress your cheeks, kiss your forehead, like i have all the time in this world and ask again, “how have you been, love?” and then you rest your head on my shoulder and we stay for some more time. in silence and in peace.

— to the mirror this midnight and to the photograph in the back of the third drawer, “how have you been, love? i am so proud of you.”