And so we spoke again. After all these years.
That soft easy voice. Those little infectious giggles precipitating a wholehearted laughter. God. You are still the 17 year old I had known all these while. Easy. Fun to be with and to talk to. Soft. And loving.
Probably you grew up too early. Or it was just me who refused to grow up. Perhaps I was scared shitless to be away from you. May be deep down inside you saw what I might become. Or perhaps we were just too young and things were just not to be. If you had asked me, well, I don't have the answer. Frankly, I think I suddenly had the urge to be free as a bird. I don't know really.
Whatever it was, one day, I took your hands, looked into your eyes and said, "this is goodbye"! It must have hurt, I know. You were grasping my hands and squeezing them strongly. And I could see the tears welling up. Suddenly you released the grasp and let go of my hands. It was as if you had no energy left. It was as if you had no will left. I still remember those hurts in your eyes. Those little sobs in between whatever words you were trying to utter. It hurts, I know. And I wouldn't even dare to think how long you carried it with you.
It might sound plain apologetic for me to say this. But I must say it. You are gracious to even speak with me. For that I am grateful. I just want to say I am sorry. And I am glad you are living well. It would be a cliche for me to say that I wish I could erase that moment from your life. But I do.
Because I can't bear the pain of hurting you, my first kiss.