It was also a Sunday. I looked quite different. I still had my long, disturbing, black hair and still wore braces I wished were gone sooner. I am not sure if the streets then were quiet and empty, or it was just because I only laid so much of my eyes on you that I never noticed how we were walking in between the hustle and bustle of the city. On that particular day, we thought spontaneity could also be our thing. It could have been, I'm certain.
We set foot on new places for the first time together. It felt amazing— having been able to experience actual firsts with you. I was able to visit old, familiar sites but now with a hand to hold. That Sunday, I was all yours and you were all mine. It was a bit strange to have you hold me as if my bones would fall broken once you let go of it. You never not held my hands that day. You gently rubbed my skin with your fingers, clasped my tiny hands tighter, and gently kissed it whenever you had the chance. I held you just the same, or so I thought, but yours was always better in every way. You were effortless in all the things you do and I could not even in the slightest bit compare. Maybe that is why you let go of mine eventually.
We set foot on new places for the first time together. It felt amazing— having been able to experience actual firsts with you. I was able to visit old, familiar sites but now with a hand to hold. That Sunday, I was all yours and you were all mine. It was a bit strange to have you hold me as if my bones would fall broken once you let go of it. You never not held my hands that day. You gently rubbed my skin with your fingers, clasped my tiny hands tighter, and gently kissed it whenever you had the chance. I held you just the same, or so I thought, but yours was always better in every way. You were effortless in all the things you do and I could not even in the slightest bit compare. Maybe that is why you let go of mine eventually.
That weekend was clear and bright so we had a great view while eating lunch. I loved it. I ate chicken. You had ribs. I should have ordered the same as yours so you didn't have to share a slab or two with me. We both liked it so much. One thing we have in common is that we love eating, and food in general. I still remember our first date that involved a lot of salmon sashimi, our favorite. I also have fond memories of finishing family meals by ourselves and randomly going on Japanese eat-all-you-can as if being together was already reason enough for a buffet celebration on any day. That Sunday with you was equally priceless. I happily sat there in front of you, watched you relished and slowly smothered your smoked meat, and died a little when you genuinely smiled at me right after. I wish I could have that everyday. You looked at me like I was the most precious, most valuable person in your life at that time. At least, that's how I felt.
We went to Church. I thanked God for the hundredfold of blessings— one of which is most absolutely you— and the many wonderful, incredible days because of you're doing. I talked to God about sunshine, solace, music, and warmth. I talked about you. That Sunday, I was sure of you. I was so certain I wanted all of you in full daylight and when half the globe is fast asleep. I wanted more of our early mornings, and waffles, and maple syrup. I wanted more of Marvel, stolen kisses, hand-holding, and cheesy romantic movies with you. I wanted more of our drunken and late nights all sealed with a kiss. I want a lot more of it.
I secretly looked at you in between moments of silence. I want that forever. You were a living, breathing reminder that all is well in the world. It would not be the last of our little adventures, I told myself. I thought of the countless daydreams I've had of us trekking mountains, catching waves, and watching the moon and the stars at night by the beach. I've never been happier. I prayed to God I never have to lose you. Not ever.
I secretly looked at you in between moments of silence. I want that forever. You were a living, breathing reminder that all is well in the world. It would not be the last of our little adventures, I told myself. I thought of the countless daydreams I've had of us trekking mountains, catching waves, and watching the moon and the stars at night by the beach. I've never been happier. I prayed to God I never have to lose you. Not ever.
That Sunday was fleeting. But it felt endless. I was recording every moment, as if I already knew those pieces would have been the only ones left of what was good. I caught you playing with the clouds. You looked so happy. I could literally watch you do it all day long and never get tired. I took a photo of the thick fog covering vast fields of green, and big cotton clouds chasing after each other, to forever remember the comfort of the cold and quiet time with you.
I thought a lot about you and I. That Sunday, we were perfect together. You and I were under pink skies— I could not imagine such a moment with anyone else than you. It was beautiful. We had coffee, talked about the future, and watched sundown together. I wished that Sunday was forever. I had the road, the cold, the view, the golden hour, and all of you. I wished it had not ended so fast. I wish we didn't.
It was quiet on the way home. We listened to Michael Bublé. I had your arms wrapped around me. You wanted to stay a little longer. I wished you stayed forever.
My love, I wish to tell the world we made it. But that Sunday and every other good memory of the short time we've been together is all what I have left. And a part of me will always remember.
Always. Even if you couldn't. Even if you wouldn't.
Always. Even if you couldn't. Even if you wouldn't.
