Time for Love

Love is real when it is imperfect

I’m coming to you. Enthusiastic. Confident in my love. I walk and the click of my heels alternates with the beating of my heart. I’ve imagined this meeting a thousand times — how you’re there and I’m coming. How I see you, stop and smile. Then I quicken my pace and throw myself into your arms. There’s no other place in the world I’d want to be. I snuggle into your chest and smell the scent I’ve always dreamed of.

I stumble, start to limp a little, but soon get my bearings and keep going. I straighten my hair out of embarrassment. I take a deep breath and try to smile naturally. I approach our meeting place, but you’re not there. I slow my pace. My throat tightens. Tears well up slightly in my eyes. I start to look around, but it’s completely deserted. I stop and look at my watch. The time of the meeting has come, but the time of my love is gone.

I am dumbfounded and I kneel down. My stomach is in a ball. I cover my face with my hands and try not to collapse. I’ve waited so long. So many times I imagined every little detail of this encounter. You’re not here to make it happen.

I hear quick footsteps around me. Suddenly someone puts a hand on my back and asks, “Are you okay?”. I lift my head in a half-blurred spiral. I can feel it running down my sides.

“Sorry I’m late.” — you say to me, changing my whole perception of this encounter. Now you don’t see me the way I want you to. You see me broken and shaggy. And lost as I walked towards you.

Now you find me. And you’re not running away. Thank you so much for not running away and for giving me a new time to love.

I look at my watch — it’s stopped. Maybe to capture this true moment of love. Full-blooded. With my makeup smudged; hair disheveled with pain. You are here. And that’s enough for me to start dreaming again. This time for real.

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