O Lado B do A

Além de tudo, o que dissemos em ligações sem registros.  Nosso vocabulário, a sua voz, o nosso tom. Espalhados por incontáveis minutos.  Lil. Life. Sem descanso.  Coisas que só a nós pertencem.  Indizíveis em qualquer um dos nossos cinco idiomas. 

Is Sunday again. Cold. Bright enough. February is slipping away. Haven’t done a thing this weekend. The air feels heavier. Familiar shadows press in— we know the signs.  It will pass. Pain is temporary. I quiet your name in my mind, turn off the “what ifs.” It shall pass.

My mind replays you on a loop— wandering through the echoes of your favourite things, laughing where you used to laugh. The coffee tastes bitter now. Your voice was sugar, and I don’t use it anymore.

Hey, It’s been a while since I last met your eyes—right before breaking down in tears on the footpath, on a cold and sunny January day. Funny enough, it’s sunny again today, but no tears this time. It took me time to decide whether to put these words together or let them slip away. But since all my letters are written for the fire—why not? There are so many things you’d be proud of. I can almost hear your voice, telling me you never doubted my ability—though you’d also remind me to ask for that pay rise. I miss you saying that. There’s a chance, just over the horizon, that I might become the head of my department. Or maybe that’s just my anxiety spinning dreams. Either way, I’m covering for everyone and slowly making my way there—missing your encouragement along the way. Guess what? I ran yesterday. Gosh, I don’t miss it - can you picture my eyes rolling here? My legs are useless today, and it was only 5km, just a warm-up for next Saturday. How did you do this daily? Missing our walks ...

Keeping you stored like a WhatsApp message we gave up on (re)reading.  Left sitting at the bottom, unseen, with no notification of arrival.