The monsoons hold so many memories for me. This year, seeing the rains after nearly six years, I feel overwhelmed. Here, under the rains, I had given and taken. Here, under trees lushly green, upon soil wet and red, I had willingly yielded to be a part of a binary system.
We could be happy together, I had thought all those years ago, as I intentionally missed the move that would have yielded me a win. I would be here for you, always. I would never leave you. We could be happy, us against the world.
We aren’t happy. We still orbit around the memories holding the suspended present tense of our lives. We might not have chosen to notice the truth of these days: we are stronger within ourselves, in our chosen lives, than we are as a binary system.
Letting go encompasses very little of the turbulence. Yet, fitting that what was begun in July would come to this in July.
I’ll write for you, again and again, I know. How could I not?
Bright was the light of your soul when you wound it to mine. Brighter may it be as we unwind us of what was.