You Again

Today is the day I meet you again.

I wake up the same as always, a little cold and a little sad to see the passing night go. I have to remind myself every time that the day will be just as good, that the rising sun will be enough warmth to chase away the freeze that comes with waking up alone.

Today, my hair is combed back. I wear jeans and a collared shirt. My skin is tan, like it remembers spending many hours in the daylight. I smell like linen from the cold sheets I woke up in.

I open the door of the house I've known for years and leave it with nothing but the clothes on my back and the drive to find you again. They are the only things I'll carry forward.

This world is so full and so empty at the same time, dark even as the morning sheds its first beams of light. The pavement is black with grime that crawls its way up the cement walls. Outside it smells like rain and dirt, but you are out there somewhere, so I step over the threshold. Turn. Shut the door to your favorite place in the whole world. At least, it used to be. I have no idea where that might be now. I hope you'll show me.

I take my first steps away from that doorstep, one foot in front of the next, until I've left the alleyway. Until I'm standing on a sidewalk, buildings several stories high towering around me. I'm not used to this place. I keep going anyway.

The walls are made of glass and polished stone and cement. Everything is black and gray except for the bright yellow lines on the street. The day has yet to burn away the cloud cover.

I walk for a long while before I hear a small sound, coming from an alleyway not unlike the one I stepped out of. I crouch on the ground to see the smallest black kitten the world must have to offer, nestled in a cardboard box. It says Free Cat in jagged Sharpie. I can't help but smile when I see the kitten. It's not you, but it reminds me of you so much. The box and its newspaper lining are damp from past rain. This little cat has nothing but tufted black fur to protect it, but it is still alive. Its pink tongue sticks out. It makes a feeble noise. It is a light in this dark, plain place, like you are for me. One day, I decide, this kitten will know love. It's what you would want.

I have to remind myself that you are still somewhere in this city as I pick up the box. The cat doesn't fuss much as I carry it away. I keep walking, this time with a kitten in my arms, until the buildings change. The walls turn from concrete to plaster, from stone to shop signs. I keep walking until I see a small store with the right logo: A blue cartoon cat with its paw in the air. Cats lounge on every visible surface inside, and I know I've found the place.

I put the kitten's box down outside the door where they will see it and continue on my way to find you.

There is more color here. I must be getting closer to you, because the world is always more beautiful where you are. I pass streets upon streets of shops, growing in vibrancy until I see it.

A park, small though it is, sits on this side of the street. I stop in my tracks for a moment. A few people mill about the dewy grass, but none of them catch my attention. No, the willow tree does that.

They're your favorite. We used to have one because you loved it so much. Remember when we would climb that tree in our backyard, and I would read you your favorite stories? We would stay for hours with nothing but our voices and the wind blowing through the willow's leaves to keep us company. I told you that it was dangerous because the branches are so thin, but you waved me off. You said it was sturdy, that it would hold us for as long as we needed it to. You were right.

You're here somewhere, I know it. People can change, and it's been a lifetime since we last met, but some things will stay the same forever.

I keep walking, like I can feel you waiting ahead of me. I think I can sometimes. Your soul is so bright that it acts as a tether between us, leading me back to you.

One final shop catches my eye: A small candy store on the corner with lollipops and taffies and bags of popcorn in the display window. We went somewhere like this last time, I remember. I bought you one of those little packages of caramels when I saw you staring at them. When you popped one in your mouth, your eyes looked as if you saw stars. I was so happy to have given you that.

A few more steps, and I find a coffee shop. The tether pulling at my chest led me here, to a little hole-in-the-wall type of place. The sign outside proclaims that this is Gray's Coffeehouse, family owned since it first opened forty years ago.

When I open the door, a pleasant bell jingles. I barely hear it.

There you are.

You're as wonderful as I remember, as full of light and joy as you were before. You look different now. Your skin is lighter, and your hair is brown instead of white like it was when you left. Your eyes are still that exact same shade of hazel, dancing with color as if they're refracting sunlight. Gold and brown and copper. You still glow like you always have in the mornings, like you're excited for the new day.

Welcome in! How can I help you? You ask me, but I'm still in awe. Your name reads differently than it used to, but it’s still yours. It’s beautiful. I must say it out loud, because you respond. Do I know you?

You used to, I say. Would you want to have coffee together after your shift? I think you must feel the tether too, because you say yes. You tell me when you'll be on your lunch break, and I buy a few things from the stores I passed on the way. When the hour turns, you come out of the shop. You've taken off the apron you were wearing. You're holding two coffees, and I know without looking that you put chocolate in them. You ask me if I want to come inside. I tell you that I know the perfect place for coffee. You hand me a cup, and I take it. You follow me to the willow tree in the park I passed on the way here.

I laid a picnic blanket behind its twined curtains of leaves. A little bag of caramels and two sandwiches are arranged on top of it.

The look in your eyes when you see them makes my heart soar. How did you know? You ask me, bewildered. You sit on the blanket and unwrap the caramels.

Just a hunch. You hand me one of the candies and we tap them together like we're toasting with fancy champagne. We both pop them into our mouths.

I see those same stars in your eyes as I did that day. I'll remember enough for the both of us. We take sips of our coffee — with chocolate in them, of course — and eat our sandwiches while we trade stories. I give you every memory I have from before I knew you, and you tell me about your life in this city. Your friend's family owns that coffee shop, and you're both working there for the summer. You don't care for the city very much. Actually, this willow tree is one of your favorite places in the whole area. You despise the colorless complexes and live in one of the nearby apartment buildings where you can see the park from your window. You positively adore sweets, especially caramels.

It's like getting to know you all over again. I couldn't be happier. You are my sun, my ray of warmth. You tell me all about your hobbies. You love to read, but you love fairy tales the most. Your mother said that you're too old for those stories. You moved out a few years ago, and your bookshelves are positively stacked with them. You like to sketch the little pieces of beauty you find scattered throughout the city. You're a die hard cat person.

I find myself falling for you all over again as you let me into your life.

Eventually, you have to go back to work. You need the money to stay in your apartment, you tell me. It isn't much, but you've never needed much.

I visit you once your shift has ended. I ask if you want to go out for dinner. You say to let you get changed first, so we go back to your safe haven together. I wait in your living room while you change in your bedroom.

The walls are the palest shade of lavender, and the softest rug I've ever set foot on decorates the floor beside your couch. There are three filled bookshelves, and your end table is stacked with stories. Everything here has a splash of color. It's imperfect and perfect at the same time.

It's so very you.

You come out wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a top that matches the walls. I smile and hold out my hand, and you follow me out your door. I lead you down a few streets to a restaurant I found while I was waiting for you to finish your shift. It's a cat-friendly pasta place. I watch you grin when we walk in and cats of all sizes are sitting around the building. Some people pet them. Most ignore them. You fall into the former group, and you've successfully befriended at least six animals by the time we get a seat.

I can tell that you're in heaven. Dinner is delicious; you insist on paying even though I said I would. I walk you back to your apartment after, and the rest is history.

I find a little place to stay in the city, working odd jobs to pay rent. The landlady is kind. I told her the story of how we met, and she hung onto my every word. She gives me caramels sometimes, which I pass on to you. I come to see you all the time. We go out together — that first restaurant will always be your favorite, though. Mine too.

One day, I walk you back to your apartment. We just watched the sunset by the beach. Before you close the door, you give me a shy kiss on the cheek. I smile and return it.

After a few months, you come to my place. You tell me that you want to move away from the city, that you've finally gathered enough money to travel and you want me to come. I agree. We put our funds together, I tell the kind landlady goodbye, and we're on our way. I haven't accumulated much since I came, so I travel light. You have a single suitcase with your clothes and fairy tales.

We see many different countries, try many different foods, and fall in love. You decide that you like the forest the best. I propose during a picnic in France. It's a little cliché, but you said it's what you'd always dreamed of, so I do it. We finally go back to the city to get married. It's a very small wedding: Me, you, your family, and the landlady. I couldn't think of anyone else to invite for myself, and she had taken a liking to you before we left. We get married under your willow tree.

We move away, to the woods you said were your favorite when we were gone. Before we go, though, you find a pet shop around the corner from where we met. You pick up a cat. Her coat is blacker than the night sky, and she’s the most playful thing I've ever seen. I remember this place. We adopt the cat I rescued that day, who somehow managed to stay here all this time. Maybe it's because you aren't superstitious. Actually, you say our little cat is a good luck charm.

We plant a willow in our backyard. You spend your days sketching the plants and the few people who live nearby. We live out our days in your new favorite place, grow old in mine because I'm with you. We get through our small fights, read fairy tales in our backyard every single night. You take up gardening. I've become a decent baker. Somewhere along the way, we become old and gray. You're still as beautiful as you ever were.

Eventually, the inevitable happens. You'd been having problems with your health, and one morning, I wake up in the middle of the night without your soul next to mine. The emptiness hits hard, the absence of your warmth unbearable. But I don't cry. Instead I hold your hand until it grows cold, until I'm drifting to sleep again. I know how this ends. I've been here a hundred times before, right beside you. You might not remember, but I always will. I love you now and forever. I shut my eyes in peace, and when I wake, you are gone. I am alone. Not for long, though.

Today is the day I meet you again.