“Do you still love me?”, she said. “Of course, I do baby.”, I replied. She lets out a grin filled with joy. She grins, and everything inside me shifts and stirs.

I think of her, every single minute of my existence. I consider her, in every one of those fleeting thoughts. Between all my agonies, I consider her– a delicate dance of the heart and the mind.

“The thick wall isn’t you.”, she said. “I know that.”, I told myself. I’m a broken child living in a grown man’s body, mimicking an adult life. But above all. I’m a man. I move my life forward with my bare hands, the same hands that could shape the reality as I know it, and the same hands that hold her index finger on a random bus ride.

She represents boundless hope. She slows things down in my chaotic mind. While I care all about creating the things I want to see in this world, she flutters her lips saying- “Wait.” She makes me taste, touch, feel and care. She teaches me to honour the little joy, stops me from convincing myself that I’m unworthy of it.

She knows I’m strong. She makes me stronger, strong enough to be gentle.

“And what about you?”, she asked. “I’m yours.”, I replied.

I’m her in the way nature is her’s.

The way there are beaches, lakes and rivers. In the way there are ponds. There are forests. In the way there are little meadows, mountain cliffs.

In the way there are blue sunny skies and rainy days.

I’m her.