After a long time, months almost, I dreamed that I was fighting for him again. I was defying the parents I love, disappointing them, turning into his arms and hoping that all the external conflicts would right themselves.
There was a house. In Sri Lanka. A small but beautiful home painted all white, with traditional clay tile roof, large windows letting in warm air and sunlight. There was a porch scattered with armchairs and framed by tall white pillars. Immediately outside the house was a nest of trees and foliage and the veranda looked on into the verdant ocean of surrounding paddy fields. It was his house. Maybe it was ours.
We lay side by side on a traditional reed mat. the fan whirred above us, and we were talking. He looked at me, lay a hand upon the bump in my belly and smiled. I’d never seen him so happy, I guess that much happiness can only be found within a dream. But from his smile i felt happiness bloom within my heart. I smiled back at him and in that moment I had never been happier.
When I reached for him he warned me that my parents would see. Even as my mouth said I don’t care, my eyes were downcast because I knew I was disappointing them. Torn. I forgot how uncomfortable that feeling was.
I don’t remember everything. But since I woke up, I’ve had this feeling. a knot in that spot between my stomach and my heart.
It doesn’t make sense. It felt so good. In that small circle within his arms, it felt so right. So many fell for him, but he only fell for me. I know him as best one human being may know another. I know the reasoning behind the choices he makes. I know what he’s thinking, and what he’s feeling as though the thoughts and feelings were my own. But so often he’s way (of thinking and feeling) was so foreign to me. We are so different.
And our differences, unbeknownst to us, is what would destroy us in the end.
The feeling lasted till midday. It faded slowly as my heart was filled with present day joys, excitement. A little praise here, a success there, excitement for a new hairstyle, opportunity to travel again. Filling that empty space I had forgotten was there. But leaving me wanting as always.
I had forgotten what it feels like to miss him. Past.
I’ll remember for a few days. Present.
Then I won’t. Future.