Dream a little dream (or two or three)

It’s you. The man in front of my door. I am perplexed. How? Why? Why are you here? I see the guitar leaning against the wall and a bag is next to your feet. You see me. I know it, but my hands can’t seem to find the handle to let you in. And the moment they do, I take a step back, unable to speak and to understand that it is you. Here. In my home. You don’t belong here. But you fit so well.

🍃

I recognise you from afar. The dreadlocks, the way you carry yourself, the smile. It’s all you. The man I met online. The man I fell in love with solely by sharing text messages and speaking on the phone. And now I am there to meet you. A bit off to the side, I recognise your brother with a beautiful woman holding his hand. They are carefully observing the scene. I don’t know how to greet you. But I can’t stop smiling. The moment the tips of my Converse touch yours, I feel a weight drop off my chest. I see your pale green eyes for the first time, and I kiss you. There is no other way. We take the bus to your home so that I can drop off my luggage. I take your hand, exploring your fingers. Speaking with you is natural. There is a flow and an ease. It carries into my subconsciousness. Behind us, your brother and girlfriend are judging us, speaking in French. They don’t know that I understand every single word they say. But it is okay. They are saying nice things, mostly.

🍃

Pregnant, and you are not there. You are travelling the world for your job, salvaging your career and your legacy. And I am pregnant. It’s a boy. I decided to call him Aiden. You are over the moon to have a son, and yet, you can’t be with me. We cannot be a couple, not even for the kid. You need to leave. And I am trying to convince you that it is okay.

🍃

Dream a little dream. (or two, or three)

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