Before I even knew the concept of having a five I read eleven words and I knew that the person who wrote them would come to mean something. Our timing was imperfect, I’d already decided not to return, I had spent too much on that place already. They would never ask that of me though, they would never ask anything. That’s why we work.
We speak the same language, and it is one of few words. No more were ever needed. They are the only one with whom that’s ever been remotely true. For two such as us, where words are so much a part of whom we are, that would surprise most. I’m certain that if the words were added they would not even form a short-story, yet they know more of me than people I’ve shared lifetimes with.
Never once saying ‘hello’ or ending with a ‘goodbye’, instead we have an ongoing conversation that’s spanned years. There is no logical path to our thoughts or our questions but they make sense to us. No need for translation.
I understand the way they think because I’m wired the same way, and that frightens me sometimes. I know that darkness too well, and where I know that I have people who can take me away from that, I don’t know if they do. I’m saved from myself but it is all too tempting to not allow that to happen. The very definition of our own worst enemy.
They have seen me smile big, and because they have seen the making of those scars that run from the back of my mind to the core of me through my own eyes they understand the significance of that. I wait for their moment. I hope that I am there to bear witness.
In their presence I feel as though I should be more, that I should know more, that I should see more, because they do. I quietly listen to them talk and they have no idea how I am smiling inside for no other reason than that I have them in my life.
There are moments of absence. When we allow each other the time to retreat into our own headspace knowing that when we are through it the other will be there. Without question and already knowing the answers if not the detail.
We are each other’s unfinished letter. We are each other’s most treasured books on the shelf. We are each other’s silent companion as we jump in puddles.
To them I am necessary; to me they are my wings.