That night when you leaned in to hug me good-bye and you offered me the thermal imaging camera, I knew then that you loved me, too. I did not take your thermal imaging camera because I loved you quite a lot and I sensed that you probably tended to give away too much of yourself to women who were probably too happy to take it all. I didn’t want to be like that. Besides, I assumed you loved that camera quite a lot, as well.
I remember what it felt to be in the room with you just talking, talking, talking, spilling beer on the floor, hearing you pee in the bathroom. I remember how nervous I felt because you were right there. Had you come sat next to me on the bed; had you moved in even closer, the evening would not have tasted as sweet.
I regret that I had once offered the opportunity for you to move in very close to me on the bed. To think that I felt I had no more value than that.
What I was not brave enough to say that night is how beautiful I found you, even in the space that hung between the two beds. I had wanted you to stay that evening, even if you had remained suspended in the distance. Your presence was enough. Just being in the room with you was enough.
After you left that night, I wrote this down: We are not yet at the point in our lives where we can fully honor this. I promised myself that I would try to remember what the moment felt like; there was something powerful and wonderful in the molecules around me; how I needed to grow up before I could swallow the wonder of it all. You must remember that you are in the presence of someone who loves you. As you know, I do not remember things well.
I forgive you. Please forgive me, too. I am trying to grow up.
When I see you again, I will smile. The only thing that will fall from my teeth will be joy. Loving you, even if you stand at a distance, brings me joy.
You are stubborn in your solitude. Fortunately, I am equally stubborn in my capacity to love. We have stubbornness in common.
Sometimes, I can feel you thinking about me. I know that you think about me. You know that I know that you think about me.
There is a saying from Prophet Muhammad that souls recognize one another from the time before when they were “gathered together.” Souls extend throughout time in multiple directions. The first time I saw you, I understood that my soul knew your soul from before.
You know, like I do, that there is a part two to this story.
There are other lovers, other wonders. And then, there is you.