Half Our Lives
Glancing at you; seeing the life and glimpse of all that you have become…there is no doubt how lucky I am that we have found each other, and become friends, once again.
Admittedly, I moved away to get away from it all, all those years ago, and somehow I missed that it might mean we would grow apart.
Out of everyone in our hometown, I never knew how important it would be for us to be friends and be connected.
In hindsight, after nearly ten years, is it too much foolish optimism to think a thin, fine line of twine was strong enough? Is strong enough?
Strong enough to trace, thread, and follow our ways back…first over 90 miles…then 833…then 2,530…until finally it returns to zero.
“I know being a romantic isn’t the most practical of characteristics, but it just makes everything in life shine a little brighter, taste a little sweeter.” And I believe this to be true for all forms of loving those in our lives.
It isn’t a specific feeling or desire, nor is it intentional idealism. Rather, it is a trusting of the variables, an acknowledgement of the circumstances, and an awareness of how it feels: a loss I never want to experience and a peace I’d prefer to forever know.
Half our lives we’ve known each other, even if “knowing” has become “knew” and so this has become new.
What’s nine years compared to all that could be left?
It brings me joy that you’re well; warmth that you are finding your way.
And along the journey, zero awaits.
Correspondence concerning this written work should be addressed to
Jacorry K. Lewis.