Day Two hundred and twenty four - In a dream

 'I want you to know this : Sofia and me, we had a daughter. It's important you know and understand this. We had a daughter, and we named her Forever. I daresay no child was loved more than Forever was, cliché though it may be. I know these are things all loving parents say, but still. She was so loved, so wanted, so cherished. We named her Forever. And then she became Never.

You know, I always struggle with beginnings : it takes me a good long while for things to become natural, and that's why I have always had issues with opening myself up, I've always had trouble letting someone come close to me. Sometimes, it took me months or even years before I could manage to show some parts of me. And in the meantime, in the meantime I always, always, hope that I do just enough for people to stay and love me.

But they never did. I realize now, as I've been realizing for many a year now, that what I gave - or could give - mas never enough, and it's understandable, people want more, they need more, they desire more; the last thing one actually wants is for yet another factor of instability, and so the leaving bit became easier to bear, and to understand.

So I withdrew, eventually. I distanced myself from many, from all, from everything. I restricted human interaction to a bare minimum, engaging my co-workers only when needed, and then, only for work related matters. Outside work, I kept strictly to myself. Safer that way. Painful that way, too.

I found great solace in the most mundane things, in the quiet moments spent underneath a summer's shade, the sweltering heat kept momentarily at bay 'neath the boughs above me, or when, sitting in a rock by the sea, I'd stare at the infinite horizon for hours on end, my ears fixed upon the rhythm eternal of the crashing waves. I found myself reading ever more and more, and then writing down my thoughts; knowing no other companion but myself, I wrote for myself, and to myself. It was as if I was telling myself : 'Here's your story, who you are, who you would like to be, what you dream of, what you miss, what you would enjoy if only...'

An unexpected thing, one afternoon : I had found myself quietly loitering by a tree I know of old, in one of the city's gardens, and just having finished reading one of your books - 'The Love Song That Flew Over Mountains & Sailed Over Heartaches' - I heaved myself up, and lost in thoughts, almost slumbering, nearly lumbering, my gaze fell on a rare and radiant jewel but a short distance from me, looking at me, smiling at me. I will confess to feeling flushed, and as a strange shyness gripped me, I could only turn my face, and walk away; certainly, thought I, the stare was not directed at me, nor was the smile intended for me. And yet, there came a calling, a calling from the quietest and softest voice I'd ever heard, a calling that beckoned me closer, ever so like a siren's call, a calling asking me if I had liked the book. And that was how Sofia and I met.