Are you still waiting
for me? Were you ever waiting for me? It's been a long time. It seems like years, sometimes. Perhaps it really has been years. It's getting harder and harder to tell.
I know when I see you I will be surprised by the smallness of you. The lightness of you in my arms will startle me, and I will wonder for a moment if you're sick, and again my heart will break at the thought of losing you again so quickly.
Perhaps you will have changed. I know some small thing will be different. Your hair will be short again, soft spikes of black straightened through hours of work and looking as effortless as breathing used to be. Or perhaps you will have new jewelry - a silver ring in your nose, an onyx earring phoenix-formed. But your smile will be the same radiant slice of warmth in my heart - teeth flashing brilliantly against your dark lips, brown eyes twinkling with mischief. However long it has been, I know these things will be unchanged. I wish the same was true of me.
How long have I spent in this land? Too long, I'm sure. I have become pale and withered, and gray as the city itself. I feel old. I need to see you.
It won't be long now. The doctors have been given their orders. There will be no resuscitation, no life support machines. I've waited for you for so long now.
I will see you soon.