Tears

I had barely got home when you knocked on the door. I put the bag on the floor, and for a moment, I hesitated, wondering if I should ignore your call, and then opened the door.

You weren’t as I remembered you. Your face wasn’t the happy face I had once seen, but a face struck by grief and sorrow. I wondered if I should leave you be, tell you that I had no time for our past, and let you do as you pleased with your life. But somehow, I couldn’t, and without conscious thought, I gestured for you to come inside.

You stumbled inside as if the grief couldn’t hold you up, and your legs collapsed under the pressure. I brought you to the living room and sat you down on the sofa, where you slumped down. I sat down opposite you, studying your tired face. It had been a long time since I last saw you, and it hadn’t gone a day without me thinking about you. Now, when you finally sat in front of me, I wondered if I should say everything I had wanted in these years; every conversation I’d had in my head, every exchange I’d made with you as I lay down in bed, waiting for sleep to come.

You intervened, crossing past my thoughts, and mumbled,

“I should have come earlier.”

You wiped off a tear that fell down your cheek, and without thinking, I reached out and took hold of your hand.

“You’re here now”, I whispered.

I don’t know if you had had as many conversations in your mind as I had in mine, but my words made your tears fall even harder until you simply ignored them and let them fall freely. I stroked your hand, and somehow, all the past flowed and disappeared with them.