If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.

Παρασκευή, 12 Μαΐου 2017

The Question You're Afraid To Ask

Where were you?

That day, that first day, that day, years ago.

Where were you?

I was at work.

Yeah.. I figured that much.

It's more than two decades later and even though this thought has been on my mind for weeks, I had just this morning felt ready to utter the words to you.

Where were you that day?

Or maybe what I really needed to say was, why weren't you there?

I don't know, it just came to me, so organically this morning over coffee, I looked at you while you were talking about some family dinner menu and I just muttered "Where were you that day?"

"I was at work" you said.


"I wasn't supposed to work that day, I was supposed to take you, but I got called in at the last moment".


I understand.

"I wanted to be there that day".


"You have no idea how awful I felt".

It's twenty something years later, I'm having a glass of wine in my house with the balcony doors open, it's way over midnight and it actually just hit me. And it finally made sense to me:

Why I'm always an asshole to those who are willingly and openly there, and why I crave the ones who are not.

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