I'm sorry, my darling, that I've been away for so long. Time seems to slip from me, like silk through my fingers. I spend too much time picking out slices of memories from our time together, and it keeps me from focusing on the present. You and I. Or is that an inappropriate label now?
I'm not quite sure which way is up. Where did we dine last night? And did we drink deep red wine or champagne? Those bubbles always tickle my nose and make my head spin. So do you. When we share champagne, I don't know whether it's the bubbles in my flute or your breath on my face that sends my head into a frenzy. But I digress...
I'm flipping through the polaroids of my memory, my love. To summers at the beach and winters in the woods. Salt on my skin and snowflakes on my eyelashes. The sun shining between the white fluffy clouds, and smoke billowing from a red brick chimney. How differently we spent our seasons. Opposites. Like you and I. Would things have been different if we enjoyed the snow on the sand and the sun through the evergreens? Perhaps this life is all about choices.
I'll choose you every time. Do you know that? Or have we both unconsciously decided that our time has passed? If the latter is true, please never forget the flannel sheets between our tangled legs and the weight of the apples on branches outside our window. It's times like this, when things get blurry, that I'm glad I held onto those memories of the life we had.
Even if it did mean I lost out on the life we might have shared.
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