Made of Love – moment VI

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I attempt to imagine myself without you (but fail):

Do you remember when we sat on the dinky bus? How about your first punch to my back and your rhetorically romantic remarks? Why does it stain my mind as much as the grass that got on the bottoms of my jeans? Your bracelet? Smoke equals spider webs? I never did really need to go to the bathroom. Let's share some music.

Okay, but darling, what if at that moment, the screenwriter of Life decided to take a coffee break? What if for a split second, a tiny wrist movement or a flick of a pen had changed our lives for our times to come?

Perhaps that morning, you might've forgot your hair band. You take a half minute and find it hidden under the pillow that you tossed in anger the night before after your mother yelled at you for something trivial and yet to be explained; in previous cause, your mother happened to have a rough day at the law office after a car accident involving a mother, her children, and a shop owner happened to summon her tons of paperwork to fill out and an annoyed boss; of course, the accident wouldn't have happened if the shop owner had only managed to say "no, please, I'm on a schedule" to the man who was trying to purchase at the last minute for his wife, letting the shop owner drive at a steady pace back to his house. The absent-minded husband, who did walk in a relieved manner with his item that night, could've avoided such a scenario if he had only reminded himself about his anniversary a minute sooner, but his mind was off for that one, single minute when his wife had asked him to take out the trash that was at the very bursting point of the trashbag because of a previous beer bottle that he had drunken the night before, after hearing the heartbreaking news that his father, with whom he had never properly gotten close to because of the man's illegitimate status as a son, had died of lung cancer. Now this cancer that happened to take the father's life that one minute on that one single day was finally brought to Death's tangible grasp because of a single cigarette that he had smoked the night before because he had no one to talk to, no one to hold, no one to sing with at night, no one to sleep with, no one to keep warm, no one to smile with, no one to live with, no one to love after falling into infidelity…

And my Love, what if that one split minute spent finding your hair band gave the chance for someone else to steal the seat behind me instead ofyou…

Well, I honestly haven't gotten much out of this absolutely barbaric scenario of mine except to tell myself that I shall never fall into infidelity's vile grasp, I'll never submit to the false pleasure of a drug's lure nor the intoxicating taste of that drunken alcohol, I'll never forget that I must also help out around the house – not just you – and let it be best that I never forget the happiest day of our lives. I'll learn to make time for you and to know when to tell someone: "no, please, I need to be home with my wife soon". I'll teach myself the virtuous patience at a red light and a stop sign and even the patience to properly clench my words inside when I start to fume.

And, my Dear, thank you for the hair band – I wear it around my wrist every minute of the day (every half-minute, in that case!)

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she has the most perfect timing.