too much
too fast
my dysfunctional past
i have forgotten
but will i ever forgive?
(part one is here)
This time, I’m ready for him.
Open the door even before he raises his hand to knock.
He tips his hat, ever polite,
“Been expecting me?“ he says.
Just a flicker of amusement crosses his face
I silently gesture him in; his drink, already poured, sits at the table.
As he takes his seat he shoots me a cautionary glance; “You seem different.”
“That’s because I am.” I shrug,
“I have realized that I can’t beat you.”
“No matter how fast I run, you will always be there waiting for me at the finish line.”
He says nothing. Merely raises a questioning eyebrow.
I shrug again, resignedly,
“It’s over. You’ve won. I’m done fighting.”
Silence.
I pour my own drink. Raise the glass.
“To you, the victor.” I say mockingly.
He doesn’t move; waits till I gulp down two thirds of my drink.
Finally, leans over, face inches from mine.
I can smell him. He smells of memories.
“Giving up is not how you face reality” He says, softly.
“Accept. Then do what you can to make reality work for you.”
Maybe he doesn’t speak at all, maybe I just hear his voice in my head
He gets up, tosses his drink back, and once again he’s the suave stranger
He nods at me “be seeing you”.
Places his empty glass on the table, walks out the door.
And I? I sit there and wait for my next guest
The one whom they say waits for no man.
I went for a bit of a walk this morning. The silly cat wakes me up at 5.30 on the dot anyway, demanding food, so I thought might as well and...