on your doorstep: epilogue

A SHADOW MOVED concealed in the night’s seas of black. I heard its faint footsteps as I sat on the same doorstep bathed with the bright light from a lamp post across the street. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I just stayed with my back against your door, head down, and arms wrapped around my knees. I didn’t dare move a muscle because I was afraid it would not be you that was making those sounds against the path of cobblestones that led to your door; to the arms where you belong.

The footsteps grew louder, moving in haste and in synchrony with the thundering beat of a heart that had been missing you for so long. And then I felt the shadow cover me, blocking the light that divided the night. Then, came heaving breaths—the same sounds that emanated from your mouth that compelled me to remember the night when bodies and souls wed, leading us to the stars.

Suddenly, I heard my name. It sounded like a plea. That was when I started breathing again but every ounce of air entering my lungs was a drive to cry the tears out. I heard my name again. Your voice trembled as a whimper escaped my lips, and then came sobs, followed by tears leaving wet blots on the letters that littered at my feet. I heard sounds of crying. But they were not mine. They were from you. I slowly lifted my head up and there, bold against the light, was a silhouette. My blurred vision cleared and as it adjusted to the lack of light I finally saw your face again; ever beautiful and impervious against the passing of times.

Helpless against the torrent of a nameless bliss, I sprang to my feet and locked you in an embrace—a gesture of a promise to not let go of you again. With eyes tight shut, I savored the feel of your body against mine; thinking that the warmth and scent of your presence would sink the truth in—that you finally came back and that the long wait had finally ended.

“What took you so long?” I said with a broken voice; a letter and a flower crushed tight in my hands.

“I am so sorry.” You said in an echoing whisper that shook the tears from our eyes.

The simple and sincere words were enough to heal the hurts and to sever the time that seemed to collapse on itself, swallowing the years past and taking us back to were we had left things; the exact point in time where we would again begin. I offered my hand where a letter and a rose lie. And we just stood there as time slithered underneath us in silence and in dark; where it had all began, surrounded by dying petals and unopened letters that sealed a thousand words which true meaning lies into just three.

That night still grows fresh in my memory for it was the night when the meaning I was desperately searching for came back. It is where the fates had failed themselves and made the greatest accident. It was by your doorstep where you found me and where I first started the search, and had succeeded.








. . .

Conclusion to the monologue, on your doorstep.