Note

Do you remember the night we met in the park? You'd been soul searching, and I hadn't heard form you in a few weeks. 

I remember two things about that meeting. The first was crossing the busy darkened street and how we unconsciously joined hands as we started to run. The other was you telling me that, although I didn't have any of the items listed on your checklist, when you were with me you felt happy. 

When you were walking close to me, it felt instantly right again. My body was happy. Something relaxed and was restored. The words were less important. There was something true and right about just our proximity to each other. I felt that often.

Choices were ultimately made. Don't you want me to have those things? Of course I do, if that's what you want. Just let me do what I want. So I did, and what else could I have done? It's for the best, I told myself.

Then I assumed the identify of the one not chosen. The rejected. His death was a slow one. 

Now, you have matured and I am not far from growing old. What would it feel like to walk together again? I would do so, even if only once more.