Blogging · Fiction · stories

Letter to her…

Dearest,

Time sure has flown by since my last letter. The guys advised me to tell you we’ve been over busy, but I know you just wouldn’t buy it. And I don’t see the need to lie to you. Things have been crazy around here nonetheless, making me miss home a little more everyday.

A lot of my fellows here consider “home” the place where they come from. As simple as that. They long to return to where they used to belong. It seemed obvious and reasonable, but I like to think that “home” is the place where I want to be, not where I am expected. And though I haven’t been too good at telling, the only place I’d like to be, right now, is close to you.

How cheesy is that, right? You probably don’t even wait for the sound of my footstep in the parkway anymore. And how could I blame you? After postponing my flight back so many times, I’ll be the luckiest man on earth if you even remember my name when I come knocking on your door someday. Soon, I hope.

Still, I recall everything about you. I keep memories alive for the both of us, hoping you’ll let me lure you into cherishing the good old times again. Someday I’ll remind you of the good times we had together. The feeling of your hair under my fingers, the smiles your laughter painted on my lips…

I wish I had the talent to write you the beauty of sunrises and sunsets. I wish I knew how to make your heart beat faster, just from a few well picked words, so you’d wait for my final come back. I wish I had the promise of your welcoming arms at the end of the journey.

But boys will be boys, and I know I’ve fucked things up in the past. I’ve left you lingering when I should have been more present. I took you for granted. Never imagined you would ever let me stray away.

You were always the fiercest of us two. Believing in the unbelievable, fighting for what was meant to fail, but in the end, I guess you were right. I always went for the the easy road, but now, I am the one going to sleep hoping to hear the sweet sound of your soothing voice, and waking up looking for your waist to wrap my arms around under the sheets every morning…

I can’t buy back yesterday’s wrongs.

But I am coming back soon, Babe. Soon. And I hope you’ll have one last chance in your back pocket for me. If not, I’ll live. But I would much rather spend the rest of this silly life by your side than regretting having let la crème de la crème just pass me by.

Duty is calling, but I will write to you again…

Love,

 

Him.

 

3 thoughts on “Letter to her…

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