Today, when I got into the car, I found out that you were wearing sunglasses not because of the way the sun hit your eyes but because you were crying. I cried all the way home, because of that, to see you so sad and broken. He sounded incredible, the missing piece to everything. Love has the longest arms, I wanted to tell you, but I was worried you won’t understand. There is nothing worse than meanings getting lost through translation, and I didn’t want this moment to dissolve. Us feeling the same wrecked emotions coursing through the chambers of our hearts, crying for different reasons. Or maybe the same, I’m not too sure. The sun was warming the snow, white blankets stretching for miles. It did nothing for my heart though. How badly I wanted to convey a gesture of peace, comfort, and love to show I cared. How badly I wanted to tell you my greatest fears to make sure you didn’t feel alone, lying asleep on death’s doorstep. But no matter what, no matter how close the future, as we accelerate into new ground, I promise to make you angel wings from spools of light. I’ll make sure you never have the burden of trudging down the lonely walk to wherever, with your back so broken, and your heart so heavy. I hope when you pass newborn rivers of tomorrow, the crumbling bridges of long ago, and orange lit fields in the afternoon, you will find a house at the end of everything. You will find yourself with new youthful legs, and smooth unblemished skin. You will find yourself ten years old and see your father waving to you with great mighty flaps of his arms.
“Welcome home.” He would say with his mouth crinkled up into a father’s smile. And you will find yourself buried in his shoulder, astounded and ecstatic at being brought back to the past, with the grass green and alive, the sunlight settling into your skin, and the scent of your father’s neck, seeming as if this moment could stretch on and on forever.