What makes you think I stopped reading your letters? They were the only thing helping me endure the last two years. Albeit, my insides crumbled down every time I opened an envelope with your name on it. As I ran my fingers along the creases you so gently folded, it would remind me of your caressing touch. And I fell in love with you, all over again.
It wasn’t easy, the last 24 months. Every time I went to the cafe down the street, I would order your double shot espresso, and sit by the table all alone. Not once was I able to bring myself to cancel your share of the coffee. As I held the ceramic cup with the piping hot coffee, it would remind me of the warmth in your embrace. And I fell in love with you, all over again.
It was traumatizing, the last 104 weeks. Work keeps me going all week. I would spend the “Saturday Nights”, sitting in the balcony, and strumming the chords of your favorite song. It hurt to think of the times I sat by the porch, leaning back onto your torso, playing the guitar, while you sang. As I paused right before the chorus, I would remember that distinct note your baritone voice would pick up before the chorus started. And I fell in love with you, all over again.
It was a struggle, the last 730 days. Every day, I woke up to the alarm, and not to your kiss. I didn’t complain while doing the sheets or the bed, because at least that way, a part of you would still be with me. Every day, I made my own breakfast. While I added honey to the cereal and milk, I thought of all my tantrums that you bore while you made my cereal. And I fell in love with you, all over again.
It was gut wrenching pain, the last 730 nights. Every night, I held on to the maroon scarf you had my name embroidered on, as I cried myself to sleep, without the desire to wake up the next day. It was there with me, through thick and thin, just like how you were always by my side. Every time I wore it around my neck, your fragrance lingered as though you were here moments before. The soft scarf would remind me of your tender grasp, as we held each other watching the shooting stars. And I fall in love with you, all over again.
I’ve wanted to die, every minute since I walked away from you. Every moment, I think of how different things would have been if we stayed and sorted things, together. Then I think, maybe this parting was, in its own crooked ways, a necessity; for now I realize, what home really means. And that is the biggest irony of humanity. We seldom value even the most prized possessions, until we lose them. You gave me the honor of being your love, and then your muse, but it is time I ask for you to be the love of my life, once again. I do not know if this letter will reach you first, or if I will, but I want you to know this: I’m coming home. I’m coming to you.
Without a doubt.