That Beautiful Wretched Thing

I.

5 minutes..

10 minutes..

15 minutes..

20 minutes..

It’s in the way you wait for a bus that’s running late.

You wait and wait and wait at the bus stop.

The seconds and minutes slip through your cold stiff fingers, melting into a puddle of disappointment at your feet.

Sometimes, the bus never shows up.

II.

It’s in the way you say goodbye.

You never say, “I will miss you so much.”

At least not face to face.

You don’t like to be emotionally vulnerable.

So, you only slip that phrase into the little messages and letters that you write.

And after years of practice with people you love, you have decided on the perfect phrase to part ways.

“See you again.”

It gives you both something to look forward to.

III.

“Maybe someday.”

It’s in the way he says those two words.

Like he thinks that saying it out loud would somehow make it come true.

Like he’s trying to reassure you that there’s a “maybe someday”.

Sometimes, you feel like he says those words not only for you but also to convince himself.

But let’s be real.

You’re both pragmatists.

You both know that there’s a 99% probability “maybe someday” doesn’t exist.

But you both cling onto that tiny 1%.

Just in case.

IV.

It’s in the air as you look up at the sky one day and is greeted with green buds and leaves on the branches hanging overhead.

It brings back memories clear blue skies, bright sunshine, fresh flowers and laughter.

You can feel it.

You can’t wait to turn the corner, bump into Spring and say, “Hello, old friend. We meet again.”

That beautiful wretched thing called hope.

What would you do without it?