I Remember - 11

I remember the moment I came home from work and discovered your letter... I was impatient to read it, yet I wanted to prolong that moment, full of mystery and joy... What had you written to me?

 

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I remember the contents of your letter...

 

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And how did you hear from me? I was really surprised by your card (very beautiful, by the way), and I, in turn, wish you all the best for this year. What are you doing in Brittany? Are you no longer at AAA's? Who told you I was at BBB's? Given your card, it seems you haven't lost your taste for painting. Well, I won't dwell on myself any further. First, I'm waiting for more detailed news from you; my curiosity won't hold up under such suspense. Come on, big kisses, and write to me soon!

 

C.

 

PS. I was in a hurry to answer you, so I didn't search for proper stationery. I'm ashamed—please don't mind the paper (notepad sheet). I'll do better next time.'

 

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I remember your surprise and the insatiable curiosity through which I sensed something I had missed so much… I remember jumping for joy after reading your words—that evening, screaming with joy, laughing, and dancing alone in my apartment…

 

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I remember being a little frustrated that you hadn't talked about yourself... I was eager to know more... Of the two of us, who was the more curious? I remember the vivid colors that returned to my life…

 

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I remember that I couldn't stop thinking about what I was going to say to you… I was impatient on the one hand… and on the other, I wanted to take my time to write the most perfect letter…

 

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I remember my response to your request for 'more detailed news'—the pleasure I took in describing to you, through a long letter, my daily life in Brittany, and my wonder for this land of painters… Not once did I mention my feelings for you, deliberately concealing them behind the joy of receiving your letter and my excitement in recounting my adventures in Brittany… What I had to say to you could only be expressed in person…

 

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I remember, having underestimated all that I wanted to say to you, I had to add a card (another Impressionist painting) to my letter to finish my reply…

 

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I remember that, after much hesitation, I asked if your mother had forwarded my phone messages to you... I couldn't understand why our contact had been lost... Was it her or you who was responsible?

 

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I remember the moment I mailed my letter... and the impatience that immediately resurfaced right afterward... I remember telling myself that I had done the right thing in setting my pride aside…

 

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I remember satisfying my impatience by rereading your words, squeezing every last drop of meaning from them as one would extract juice from an orange...