I don’t remember him. Not during the day. During the day I have light and life and laughter. I watch my sister grow, I marvel at simple things and cry only at soppy movies. I work, and smile with my friends. I have too much caffeine. I walk, I laugh, I shop, I sneeze, I am not alone.
But when it get’s dark. When it’s the blackest part of night. When the sky is pitch and the stars themselves seem to hold their breath, for six minutes, I remember him.
When the clock reads 3:00am, I open my eyes.
He wraps around me like the sunlight soaking into a naked body on the sand. Warm and formless, but filled with light. And I remember loving a man with cobalt eyes and the devil’s smile. Who waited for me, who’s always waited for me. And will continue to wait; until it’s time.
Then I will know love again. All encompassing, unconditional.
The clock’s glowing numbers flash, and it’s 3:02
I know in four minutes I’ll forget again, and realize maybe it’s better that way, because I’m suddenly so impatient for that day that I don’t know what to do with myself.
3:03, I remember his kiss, and I don’t ever want to forget.
3:04, I know he was a hero, and salty tears trickle down my cheeks as I whisper a thank you to the darkness.
3:05, I know I loved him. And my heart breaks and re-knits again.
40 seconds, I know I have to be patient.
30 seconds, I greive.
20 seconds, I know he’ll come for me.
10 seconds, I whisper “I love you.”
3:06 I’ll be asleep. I’ve never known a man named William. I’ve never had a love that cracked the world.
But tomorrow night I’ll remember.
I don’t know who did this to me, I can’t quite say all of how I feel. But thank you. For not letting me remember, for not letting me forget. I never want to forget.
He’ll wait.
He’ll always wait for me.
