But on a Wednesday, in a café, I watched it begin again.
This is the second letter I’ve written for you when I heard someone finally call your name again after a silence so long it almost felt like forever. It’s been a while, and I’ve never felt whole since. A part of me perished when I saw you leave, and the other half withered not long after when I almost stopped waiting.
I used to come to the bus stop where you’d hide from the pouring rain, or when you just didn’t feel like coming home. I used to sit there and wait for the bus to stop, wishing you’d show up even if only for a moment. I waited until the last bus departed, leaving behind only silence and the remnants of your presence.
In my head, you smiled at me. You ran across the road to see me, waving your hand, sweat dripping from your forehead. Your face, bright with joy, ready to share it. Basketball in your left hand, orange jersey, black hair soaked and pierced at both ears—something your parents would never hear about.
In my head, you sat beside me. You hummed unfamiliar songs that I somehow grew used to hearing even after you left. Songs I now listen to when I miss you, hoping the stars will catch my whispers and send them back to you.
In my head, you talked to me. We would chat on our way home from school. Sometimes, you’d turn around and walk backward while speaking. You always had so many stories to tell, and I never seemed to get tired of listening.
In my head, you never left. You stayed just as you always had, no matter how rough life became. You stayed to remind me that life is better when shared and that these hardships are just small parts of the whole we have to face.
So I waited. I wait for you until I forget I’m waiting. I sit at the bus stop until I realize the buses keep passing. I stay until the sky dims.
I still carry the love you gave me, nurturing it, hoping it will grow stronger when you come back.
“Look, we both grew up so well. How about you?”
That might be the first question I ask when I see you again.
I want to hear from you. I want to sit beside you. I want to listen. I want to see you again. And this time, please, don’t let go of my hand like you did the first time.
I want to grow old with you. I want you to see how far we’ve come. I want to write more letters to you—from the heart, with love and compassion. I want you to walk me home again. And I want my love to always lead you there.
This time, Darling, I promise, my love will keep you from leaving.
So don’t go. Stay. Live the life you always dreamed of because finally, after all these lifeless months, life feels worth living again.
Finally, after all these sleepless nights,
Love blooms again.
And, finally, after everything,
It all begins again.
