i often catch myself revisiting the moment you told me you liked me. that night is one that is etched into my consciousness and if i were to ever lose that cherished memory, i wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
i always start off with the train ride home together after work. i was buzzing with excitement over my queenstown trip. i remember i was lugging around a massive canvas bag with my overpriced hiking boots. and you insisted i show them to you but i was adamant you’d see them the day we went hiking together (which we have yet to do my love). my workmates that very day were cracking jokes about me flying out on virgin australia but doubting whether i’d return on the same airline. and i remember that hearty laugh of yours as i told you. but there was something off.
my glee synced up with your own chaotic energy and we were both so thrilled. but you seemed slightly detached. like you were struggling to find the words for something you felt was important. yet at the same time you felt conflicted as to whether this was something that needed to be said. and i tried to coax it out of you but you wouldn’t let yourself do it. so i assured you we could save it for another day when you felt more sure about yourself. every time we revisit this particular moment together you ask me whether i knew or sensed something. to be honest, i had an inkling but dashed it before i could get my hopes up and entertain the impossible. or so i thought.
as clearly as i remember that train ride, the moment i recall most vividly is when you gently grasped my hands in yours and prayed for me. no one has ever done that for me. and i remember joking around after about how you didn’t trust me to look after myself. but deep down i knew there was another reason. but i did not dare to give that thought a voice. after that we parted ways as i got off at my stop, with a promise to have a safe trip.
later that night as i was finalising my itinerary you called me. and we talked and talked as i wandered around my backyard and admired the stars and then eventually i wound up on my bedroom floor with you asking me to start a countdown from 5. i honestly can’t recall how many times we had to restart because you were unsatisfied with my countdown abilities and my general lack of patience. but we got there eventually.
a perfect countdown followed by a long silence. and i knew the next words to fall from your mouth would change our friendship. and i remember hearing them and my heart stopped before it began to beat erratically. i thought i sensed a panic attack coming along. but it wasn’t that. pandora’s box had been pried opened. and instead of vile things escaping, i let myself feel the most joyous and liberating emotions. you cracked open the lid on a box i thought i had secured away permanently. every time i revisit that exact moment, i feel a rush to my heart and i have to remind myself that no this isn’t a dream.
mahal, thank you.
ex nihilo nihil fit 