When Tenderness Comes Too Late?

Posted: April 21, 2013 in book; books, epistolary, Fiction, Musing, Musings, opinion, philosophy, relationships
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Dearest Friend,

Delauney’s painting – Sometimes I look at it, and it seems as agitated as our souls right now. A few minutes later, I look again, and I see peace and quiet, but with energy and fire. Somehow it represents us: while it scares me, it calms me as well, and it gives me joy, too. Be happy; it’s your birthday.


Wise Friend,

I’m so far. I wish I would be able to touch you so slightly, so lightly. Happy birthday and many happy returns – please laugh a lot with your beautiful laughter.

You brought me a fantastic year. I wish you goodness and a comfortable life, and to never regret that gift so loaded, so pregnant. Whatever has happened, our love, may it be a sign of only good things to come to you.

Dearest Friend,

Now, don’t blame me. What possibilities, do you think that could have crossed my mind back then? After two years, I left him. I was nine years younger than you, and I was so immature.

How was it possible that I was there for those years, and we didn’t ‘know’ each one about the other and each one for the other? Has life toyed with us, like a joke? What did it want from us to prove?

That we’re two people kind and caring? I have no idea if I would have reacted to your signs. I responded to the warmth in your voice, at sunset, looking both of us over that valley I love. I acted, not as an adult, but as a little child to whom somebody finally told how valuable might be.

Wise Friend,

Maybe if you had persisted, I would have been intoxicated. It’s your fault you moved me too late and too fast. I left that place, the beloved country, with your words in my soul, with the warmth of your voice, feeling to some extent the attraction you had felt, not more than that.

You say you kept pushing the gas pedal, knowingly that the engine was not on. Suddenly the engine started, and we forgot reason. I, like you, had not imagined this was possible, even if deep down maybe I, like you, knew it was.

Why not, if we knew this is what we wanted, then why no other person who wanted the same showed up?

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