I hadn’t thought of you in a long time, which considering my long struggles to cut you back and tame your wild, stubborn overgrowth, I have to admit it was a welcomed relief. You had finally settled down beneath a hard, thick firm crust of earth, which I had planned on leaving until a new grain was stubborn enough to weed its way through to the surface. Yet today, I saw something which hit me like the sharp, penetrating heaviness of a plow on the surface of the earth before it cuts deep and churns the consolidated soil.
I was walking unperturbed, peacefully admiring and absorbing my state of being, feeling harmoniously intertwined with the nature around. As melodious, dramatic music played in my ear, I watched people of all shapes, sizes and stories maneuver their way along the outskirts of the park. I had been walking for an hour deeply engrossed in the smells and visual textures of the nearby arboretum and the radiant sunset. But when I turned my head back towards the path, it happened. A young man encompassing his lover emerged from the crowd, wearing an orange shirt. The same orange shirt that you once wore. The one you sported the day we climbed like goats and discovered the heights of sacred temples. The one that gave birth to our first intimacy, as I sat next to you, outlining the printed designs with my figure tips on the small of your back. The one that you wore under, in between and over and over again. The one that still to this day distinguishes you amongst all others and the one that matches your colorful personality.
It was like a reflex. Seeing this man, simply dressed in a pair of jeans and wearing that orange shirt, left me with no other choice than to believe it was you. Frozen in time and place, he turned and to my relief and disappointment, it was a stranger’s face I saw…
