The First of Many: Memories

If I were to recollect my memory, everything is crystal. I can recount the days when I was happy, sad, or just okay. I can recall the days when it was sunny, when it rained or when the sky formed gradients of pink and blue and orange. But what I'm particularly amused about is my memory of you. Your face is a blur in my recollection now unless I see it from a photograph- but you do not seem to be as memorable as what I felt about you. For that, I am at peace.

I once confided with God about your arrival, I asked Him if you were his gift. I didn't precisely hear a response, but I asked one favor, if you're not meant for me, I hope He removes you from my life. I will not even question why, I would just know that when that moment comes, it was my answered prayer.

True enough, we were just ships that pass in the night, a momentary collision of fate- never really meant to meet again. But what I've learned from you will always stay with me, and here, right now, is my confession.

With you, I learned to allow myself to be vulnerable, to be less perfect in someone else's eyes. I figured because I shared my heart with you, it carries along with it my imperfections too. With you, I learned to open my heart to possibilities- for new dreams, goals, and adventures, it's as if you were a blanket that embraced my fears and kept them away for a while. With you, I felt safe. Your voice seems to make me unravel so much of what I was missing out, like how it feels to have a hand to hold or a "We" from my usual "I." You were the test in the water if my family would approve of the unconventional love I seek, and right enough, they were more than happy for me.

I've realized now why you came along, and why you left, and why your departure felt less painful than what I expected.

When you left, I realized my worth- the things I am capable of because I need to be brave. Without you, I have accepted the part of me that I always keep in the dark, the small cracks that hurt silently, and with your departure, I realize that I was never really missing out on anything, that possibilities will come as long as I keep an open heart for them.

I would like to think that ours is a transient encounter, fated yet fated to fade too. We were not meant to stay, but my prayer is that in that very brief convergence, you've learned as much as I did, because, if I were to recollect my memory, your face does not exist anymore, but from time to time, when the radio plays the song I once sang in my mind for you, I remember you, like a gust of wind on my face- brisk yet freeing.