I’ve fallen into water going 20 miles per hour, and you’d be stunned how hard water can be. Literally, as I found, lying face up to the blue sky and gasping for breath. I get back up for more. Why do I do this to myself? Well, I like to think that I can learn. That all the falls would result in understanding, and strength, and that one day I could balance perfectly on the thin line between water and sky.
(Nov ember 2015)
The first time I saw you, I knew you were the one for me. Strong and light, you carried me easily above the waves. We saw countless sunsets above the lake; greeted the early sun rising over the mountains. I drove home late at night with you in the back of my car. I brought you to that unfortunate day trip to Pampanga. Waited with you in a midnight cafe. I tried to impress girls with you. The girls came and went, but you stayed – in the bed of the pickup truck, in the old shed, leaning against a wall, just waiting for me to take you out and ride you again.
When I knew I couldn’t keep you anymore, I thought I would feel nothing. I brought you with me for the last time on a cold December afternoon, to hand you over to the girl who would make you her own.
I thought I would feel nothing.
But standing by the gray lake, shivering in the wind, I found myself wishing she’d find something she hated about you. I watched her skim the waves with you. And finally, I watched her walk away with you.
I will never feel so dauntless again as I felt with you.
When I am better – when I have earned it – maybe I will win you back someday.
* * * * * *
Personally, I thought that was ridiculous. But I didn’t want it to go un-commemorated.