Monday, February 13, 2012

The Business of Loving

The sun was all light and no warmth the day I first saw you. I sought shelter in the public library; alone – yes – achingly so. Do you remember how my fingers brushed against you as I walked past? It was no accident.

After that, for the next two weeks, we were inseparable. You cast a spell upon me that made my eyes open a little wider. New life started to blossom in the desert of my heart.

You were my delight.

But I knew from the first that you belonged to another, that I could not in could conscience keep you as my own.

The separation was bitter, yet I took solace in the changes you had wrought in me. Because of you, I no longer felt alone in this world.

It was because of this, because of my fond memories of you that, years later, I tried so hard to find you. I scoured the Internet searching for you. But my memories did not make suitable search terms. I could not search for Love: of course not.

I looked for you until, one day, after years of searching, I made contact. We were to meet, and I knew that this time you would be mine.

I was nervous. I wondered if you had changed since last I saw you. And at first, it seemed that you had. There were times I worried that I barely knew you. But slowly the memories flooded back, and it soon felt as if the intervening years were but moments.

The eyes-wide-open feeling you engendered within me when I was young has returned. I am so glad that I have found you again; so glad that I can hold you again; so glad to be reading you again.

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