Traveling Raconteur

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My Boy Tim

My dearest little pumpkin,

It’s been years since I last saw you. Since that moment when I watched the distance between us get longer and longer, when you waved your soft little hand with the darkest lines and a fixed gaze that connected us. You didn’t look away until you had to get into the car and like that, you were taken away from me.  You are thousands of miles away today, in a country very different from the one we lived in together. You’ve everything around you now, every need met, every wish granted, every question answered, with many lives influencing yours and you influencing theirs. You have the entire world to you now but those were the times when I was your only world and you mine.

My name is one of the first words you learned. When you called it out, with all the might of your little beating heart, with all the vocal strength you could gather, with a joyful smile on your face and sparkling eyes trying to catch a glimpse of me, it shook me. It sounded like the roar of a love tsunami, coming to engulf me, bless me and bring me gifts I could never imagine. Nothing was ever sweeter to my ears than you calling me from your house, trying to get me out of mine, come to you and hold you. That sound of your voice will forever play in my ears. You call me to you everyday but now I am paralyzed. I can’t come to you, can’t see you long for me, try to reach out for me sticking your hands through the grills of a locked gate. I can’t come, open the gates and take you in my arms. I can’t unlock our distance my dearest Tim and that pains me.

In my mind, I hold your heavy little body, warm and soft. I look into your big, bright eyes, see your heavenly smile and kiss your dear cheeks as I did for everyday of the twentieth year of my life. My heart continues to speak to yours as it did when you couldn’t say a word but the love you expressed mutely made my life better each day. I couldn’t wait to hear the last bell at college each afternoon so I could come to you and take you in my arms.

It runs like an unending film of images, the times I spent with you. Those times when we rode the clouds on my moped with you right under my chin, when you spent your evenings on my bed drawing long lines on paper as I read my book, when you sat with me on the dinner table and put tiny morsels of food in your mouth as I watched you, when you climbed into my lap and remained there – sometimes utterly silent, letting our hearts speak, when you put your hand into mine and laughed like blissful showers.

I do not believe what is expected of me to believe – that you’ve grown up now and will not remember me. Timothy Paul Wilson, your memory of me may fade but our hearts know each other and forever will.

Yours forever,

‘Oye Akkaaaaaaaaaaaaa’

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This entry was posted on March 19, 2011 by in Love-Letters and tagged .

Fighting An Additction

Not One MoreSeptember 12th, 2014
Addiction is a curse one allows upon one's self until it ceases to seek permission. I do not like the idea of a mind controlled by substance. If I can refrain for 30 days, I'd be very impressed with myself.

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