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-Confucius had his Analects and I have my journal-
In these idle moments, I dote on thee, kindly and kinder than I did before. I'd call it reminiscing, but my memory's far too selective. I miss and imagine you - your input on the daily news - cackling at something that I said to hear your ridiculous laugh.
Then, when I require my faculties, I'm reminded that I left you behind. I hoped Time would bear the brunt of my decision, but his easy stride outpaced my staggering gait. I'm carrying valises of tokens of what you left behind after I abandoned you. See, once I was certain the abandonment was mutual, I returned to our bungalow on stilts. I collected tokens of what was left behind, filling valises with them to keep me company as I marched with Time. At first, I could exert myself to remain en pace, but I can't for much longer. I sift through the bags, relieving myself of things that meant less to me. It felt and feels like a divorce every time I remember those tokens left on the shore of memory - the waves having engulfed and eroding the details and their charm.

It is now that I realize that there may never be a day that I will not hear your name and look back into the sunset, where I had left you. Time won't shield my ears or rob me off my burdens, but he will force me, eventually, to travel lightly.

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