Letter To The Wind

"Profound disorientation," was how the movie "Little Children" described the first encounter between the two protagonists of the films.

"... like being abducted by aliens and returned a few hours after," the movie continued to describe Kate Winslet's character.

I remember feeling the same thing with you. It all happened so fast it felt like a dream sequence, it was unreal. But waking up beside you told me otherwise. Or so I remember.

Like a dream sequence, too, it was over. And soon I discovered, though accidental (but aren't all discoveries?), that it was impossible for us to have anything beyond and more than what happened.

Or so I thought.

But right now I don't know. Truth to tell is, I still haven't figured despite very categorical statements uttered. But words are merely words and actions more often than not, contradict them.

And so I wonder now, like I wondered before, what that last hand-kiss meant. Or the stare during the longest taxi ride of my life to never-land. I was so caught up with the questions then that I wasn't able to act appropriately (defined as not having to do anything considering the factors).

And so I am left with the questions.

Sometimes, I try to forget them. Sometimes, I even try to discourage them. But nothing I guess will make them go away. Even the conviction that it is not right, will not make things right.

If I could, I would tell you of these things I keep inside. Of how that last letter meant only a fraction of the original that I didn't send. That I was, and am, perhaps still enamored by your character, like a piece of art which I would like to make mine just because it is beautiful.

"I was prepared to fall in love with him," I recall having told Ruth, like I have come to a decision but was holding back.

If I could, I would tell you that I think of you at night. Fondly. No pun intended. Of that night you slammed against the gate because you tried to run but was too drunk. Of that kiss. That kiss that put all my past memories of the same kind to shame. Or of how we just slept, side by side, unmindful of the world.

If I could, I would ask you, was there something I should have said or did, that could put your questions to rest. I would ask you too if I am not alone in all these misery of missing you and wishing I don't.

If I could, I would.

But I know, I couldn't.