It was a blow. She crept in so quietly that I never realized she was there. No trace ever, no mention, not even a glimpse I ever had. And then she was there, in her entirety. It hurt. Surprisingly, I felt my eyes turned moist, almost like a reflex.

Reflex reminds me. That’s how it had grown to be, gradually. That’s how it had become, to care for you and lookout for you. Like a reflex. Funny how it felt like an impossible task to not do that anymore. Ironic how the more I tried to not be concerned, the more I kept in touch, the more I took care. And then it was funny how that day when I saw her, I weakened.

The resolve to care, the spurts of affection, the concern about your minor troubles, gauging your mood from a far away place, that excitement when you are thrilled, the gloom when you felt low, the excessive thinking when you fell ill, that invisible bond across the years and distance; it snapped.

Snap reminds me. That is what I used to do often when talking to you right at the start. Snap at someone because you hadn’t called, snap at you because the plans hadn’t materialized, snapping at myself because I couldn’t make our situation easier, snapping every time I felt your absence.

It was a struggle, yours and mine. A struggle to move from the snapping to the acceptance. A struggle to move from the frustration to acceptance. A struggle to move from the anger to acceptance. It all led to the same place – accepting the reality. Which I did, though I took some time. I was learning all the time. I made a fine job of the whole thing, don’t you think? Such changes in such a short time! When I look back, I feel proud of even the silliest of my reasons and blames. They propelled me to where I am today. They led me to what I needed the most – to accept.

Accept reminds me. This is something you have always lived by. Accept everything, exactly how it is. Though I have my reservations about it even today, I see better sense in it. It is one thing to resign and give up, and another accept and keep hoping. I was on the latter track, thankfully. I accepted. But I continued to hope nonetheless. Probably that is why that sense of having been stabbed, been jolted when I saw her. Remember it was so surprising to see her there. I never had the slightest of ideas. It has not been easy. But I have been trying.

Trying reminds me of how much of the verb have I used since the start. Maybe at the start, the direction was wrong. I admit. And I apologize. But then I persisted. I adjusted the mast and set sail in a different direction. This time the efforts were more sensible. It wasn’t the right time anymore though.

Time reminds of where we are today. Time is what stood by as we rocked back and forth on the waves, some rough, some good, some way too low, some way too high. Time is what you needed. Time is what scared me. And still, it was time that remained when everything else was taken away. And then she entered, albeit at the right time. Or maybe the wrong one? I’ll never figure out. I would rather not. Sometimes it is good to be delusional. Only sometimes though.

I am disappointed. It used to hurt before. With time, I am disappointed now. Its just that dull throbbing stab of a sensation now. That’s all she elicits now.

I am sure time will change this too. It will cease to matter as much. It will cease to bother like I am losing something precious. It will probably cease to be precious. Because what was, is no more. And what is no more cannot be precious. And when those memories will gradually start mixing up too, this will become a story, of the past.

You and she. Its all good.

Her presence is louder now. It is not silent and unassuming anymore. So, I withdraw; in good time, with good times, and with a good faith.