At night - you wouldn't have thought I would but I do this all the time. I look back, no never that far to the length of unwanted memory streams but maybe just by a day or two or just now before he goes to bed, and I thank my lucky stars when I do. Luck, "no I'm not lucky I'm blessed yes", often I prefer using luck as an excuse as to not feeling worthy enough to be blessed, yet still, grateful.
I'd never know for how long, I could never say but he's here now and still awestruck to such drastic changes, it seems almost miraculous. As surreal as it is or seems, nothing should ever surprise me anymore. Patience pays they say, and it did. It never bothered me of where it lead me to for I have put myself in such a state on my own but I've never let myself get so arrogant to believe to be such an insignificant piece of someone or their life to be seen as a lost if they lost me, even if I have mentioned it before, I knew things would be better off for them as it should and always would or could get better for me.
We're here now, to where we left the shattered pieces to be blown away by the coldness of the wind with hopes and sullen bitterness of memories soon to be forgotten that we left it with. We never did. It never crossed my mind to. Who would have known - no, but to have believe for it to actually happen- for us to go back to where we left things hanging, picking up each piece in sight and glue it all back together to become as one. Things would never be the same as it never does for things like these they would say but we were never them and he was never any other guy to me. He seemed right, and even with doubt as to confusion, so did us; we're right with all the wrongs and for all that isn't.
Like an early Christmas gift, I would think god gave me another go to make things right and learn fron whatever mistake it was to have made it all slipped through the space of my fingers. Or rather it was a second chance for him to grab what to him might be the very few happiness he could ever have felt or own throughout his teenage years. But who and what is there to point fingers at? This has always been for the both of us, never just one or another. But us.
He's sleeping soundly by now, another day to go through, the same old routine for tomorrow. Mine isn't the same anymore. Mine isn't like before. Isn't it wonderful how delightful it is to be a part of something, to make the ones you love happy by just existing? No one needed to be told, to know - if they ever saw me with him or how I would want to look at him, the thoughts I have of him, for every time I read him, that I loved and now love him more, more than I could explain, or than he would know or I could show, and more, ever so much more than I did before.
Nobody needed to state, the obvious.