Every time something happens, I hold my breath. I turn on the television and I scour the images. One day, I’m convinced, there will be an eyewitness report from you and I’ll punch the air and be happy that, at least, you are okay.
Now I wait. Again. Just like you waited with me one morning at 4am because I didn’t know what else to do. Always us waiting together in the dark hours. Funny how that happens.
I’m still waiting to hear from you. Updated – I just heard from you, and you’re okay. Relief.
I realised this morning, when I turned on the television, that it’s been nine years since. Since what? Since we muddled up our lives and I threw things and ate out of jars on the kitchen floor at 1am. Did anyone ever sleep? I don’t think so. Heh. Nine years since you made pasta and I pretended to know how to boil the kettle. Since you tolerated the crying and I tolerated the noise. How you taught me more about patience and tolerance than I’ve learnt from anyone else.
“soon I’ll grow up and I won’t even flinch at your name”.
Nine years. Flinch. Please be okay.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3tU6yVScok]
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