And he never did, even after the many plans that we made; fantasies I now know.
The meeting at the bar in the hotel where I would wait with the excitement of young lovers, restrained familiarity. The coming upon each other on our favourite beach, where he, like me, would love to sit and listen to the waves in. The anticipation of the airport first encounter when he would exit the arrival hall and into my arms, or more I into his.
There will be no sitting on the deck of our beach home, at peace in each other’s company. No back rubs in the afternoon after a weary day of writing. Those meals we had savoured in our minds, the diverse flavours which our adventurous selves had vowed to experiment. Those carefree mornings, though few but complete with sensuous lovemaking and a bagel and coffee to follow.
To have the children visit on special occasions, bringing laughter and joy while we secretly looked forward to being on our own at night, if only so we could sing their praises of how they are faring in their world. To be comforted by how contented we are in ours.
So many dreams that will never come to pass.
Here they all are… my people here for me. I watch them making their way over, despite the dis-ease of being here, their love I can still feel. My boy holding himself so tightly… “It is alright, breathe”, I used to say to him. Wish I could now. It is indeed a beautiful gathering… everything organised to the finest detail. That’s her work. If this is how she copes, then I won’t complain. “Mum loved these purple hues,” I hear her say, graceful always no matter the circumstance. Losing one’s mother is not easy. I know.
If only they could see me… released from the ties that had bound me to them. If only they knew how important these ties were yet how restrictive they had been, how much sacrifice they had demanded of me. I had made them all. Perhaps they feel it now. Ah, but what use is that to me now. And …
Oh, who’s that… almost hidden behind the casuarina… looks like him… it cannot be … but how… It is him. He made it after all this time, well I guess better late than never. He looks as I remember him. Ironic after such indeterminate silence … I wonder if he will make his presence known, his identity … us. What will my people say?
That is no longer my concern. Time to go.
Is he waving at me? No… yes, he sees me but how… Oh dear man, is that why you never said goodbye.
“Oh my love…at last.”
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