Waiting

I remember, not so long ago, your presence between these walls. Smiling as you prepared breakfast, handing me some food from your plate to change from my routine. We lived together but we were not the same. You were always sitting, reading, thinking, while all I wanted to do was go outside and burn up my energy. But you’re not here anymore, and now I sit on the couch, half asleep, replacing your warmth by the rays of the sun that poke through the window. The television is turned off, but even if it was on, it would hold no meaning for me. The only reason I ever watched it was because you were there, with me, watching and reacting to these fast moving images and words that always sounded empty.

You left without warning really. I should have been used to watching you walk through that door, but I could never be used to not being with you. Your smile, your laugh, your friendly words, all of these things were starting to slip away from the grasp of my memory. And I am here, on the couch, half asleep, picturing you coming back, walking up the stairs to the door. In my sleepy stupor I walk to the door, looking, hoping, wishing that it would open up and that I would be greeted by your smile, your voice, your smell.

This house is empty without you. I cannot deal with the silence. I make noise of my own. A primitive calling, something that I wish you could hear. Where are you? Too long as passed since I last saw you. I eat without any enthusiasm. I’m about to run out of food, when you were there that never happened. I go down to the basement, hoping that somehow these empty rooms could fill the void you left when you walked out that door. I find more of the same loneliness downstairs. I decide to nap a little more in the downstairs living room. The sun is not quite as present here, and so I will not feel like I am slowly burning as on the upstairs’ couch.

Time passes. I wake up. I hear a noise. Is that your? I run upstairs as fast as I can, to go to the door. No one. I see out of the window that it was just the mailman. To my shock, and possibly to his, I let out a sound of protest. How dare he come here, make this noise, and not be you? Why couldn’t it have been you? I am stuck here waiting for your presence, but I now fear that I will never see you again. And so I replace the protest by a complaint. Where are you? Why are you no longer here, with me? So little time as elapsed since you left, but it could very well have been an eternity. Where are you? I need you, I want you. I am starting to forget things about you. Why did you leave? Did I do something wrong?

I go to the bedroom we so often shared, and I see some of your clothes that have been left behind. I cannot resist the temptation of burying my nose in them to fill my lungs with you sweet scent. It’s invigorating. I go back to the living room, I won’t turn on the television, but I will sit, looking outside, my hopes returned by the articles of clothing still baring parts of your essence. Cars go by, none are yours. Do you even remember me? I don’t know where you are, you never told me where you were going. You probably did, but I was too entranced by the sound of your voice to try to give meaning to these words. And so you left, without a word of warning. How long as it been? Can I even define the time that has elapsed? I can only count the things I did in your absence, and not the time I used to do these. Time without you does not matter.

So I doze off again on the couch. Sleep makes time go by faster, maybe you will return. Maybe it will be you who wakes me up from that sleep. A noise again. I pay closer attention. Someone is coming. I hear the door being unlocked. I run to the door, I want to be sure it is you; I can’t believe you’ve returned. The door opens, and you stand there, with a beautiful smile. I can see you, hear you and smell you. You are back. You smile when you see me, and then you speak: “I hope you haven’t missed me too much boy.” I bark my excitement. “Wow, have you been waiting for me here all day long? Why don’t you go outside for a while…”

The door closes. I take care of natural needs. I then look at the door. How long has it been closed? Why have you locked me out of your life...

[Something simple, I seem to do those a lot right now... Oh well, I cant write revolutionary stuff every time. Hope you enjoyed it.]