It has been a dozen years since I last said hello. We were two innocents standing on that bridge – a bridge so sacred to my childhood memory that I cannot remember where we had been.
The image of that bridge is forever etched into my mind’s tissue. There you were, writing a love note on the back of that foggy windowpane. That black SUV faded into the hazy distance. No name, no number, nothing. Just a feeling that we would come together – some day.
I cannot fathom the reason why you had to go but I recall you saying you would be back – one day. We were two ten-year-old kids with a map of open roads and starred cities, and hearts so big they would burst of happiness underneath those autumn fireflies. And then you went away.
I think of you now because for the lack of beautiful words: I need a miracle and a half to see me through this feeling of desolation.