LOVE LETTER TO TANDOOR

My dearest love,

I have been wanting to write this letter for the longest time now. So many days have past, so many seasons since I last saw you. Since I last held you in my arms. I miss simply just looking into your eyes, even though I know it became very painful toward the end of our time together.
When you could see right through me and where I was headed. Where our journey ended.

But I want to reminisce and talk of the good times. Of falling in love. Of seeing each other for the first time.

It was an August afternoon and Yeoville was bumping. I stepped off the bus opposite Time Square (before the days of quarts) and made my way to a table in the corner on the stoep. My favourite table. I ordered my usual, rolled a cigarette, took out Jean Paul-Sarte and struck my intellectual pose. Many came to join me over the course of many hours and we held court till the early hours of the morning. But somewhere in that evening you came along and...
I remember so clearly, you said so little but I could not stop trying to listen every word that fell from your mouth.

You were new in town and completely different to other women. You had an uncomplicated manner about you. It was like you lived life as if it was the last moment. Not intense at all, but yet intense in your quiet moments when you disappeared to a far off place inside.

And I fell in love with you so deeply. When you laughed you whole being laughed from within and your eyes disappeared. When we strolled down Rocky Street and and you held my arm, pulling me from side to side to show me something exciting that you have noticed, I gave into your childlike moments. You made me so much more than that pseudo-intellectual realm I was trapped in.

And when we made love for the first time, it was like tasting cool water for the first time. I could not stop drinking from you. We consumed each other, we ate, made love, laughed, listened to music, danced, made love, spoke, made love.

But we both knew from the start that it would never last. And when we lost our child, through mutual consent, not only our child died, but we died. Today I know that the love never died.

Like I said it has been many seasons. We were young and hopeful and filled with so many ideals. We were gonna change the world and love forever.
Forever turned out to be just a short little time.

I can't even remember who left who. It was never really important, though. All I knew is that a part of my soul was gone. And you still carry it with you today. I know it is with you. And we have moved on with our lives and we have fulfilled parts of our promises to one another, with others today.

And I see our daughters' eyes in the eyes of your kids and my kids today and wonder what she would have been like. Whether she would have had your laugh and my temperament. Whether she would have had your resolve and tenderness. Whether she would have shared our common love for music and good food.

I used to think of us as a family, but that was a long time ago. I think it was easy because we understood that even though we deeply loved each other, there was simply no way we could be together. But even though, it was sore and both of us hid our pain behind smiles and tender embraces for such a long time. But we moved on and loved others.

So why am I writing this letter to you after so many years you might ask?

Well I have always had this conversation with you in my head and it is time I tell you how I felt and how I feel. And I never really had a moment to say sorry and to say thank you for letting me into a place, at a time that was chosen for us by the universe. It was an amazing space. And even though there was pain, we loved each other and it was real. In that moment we truly loved each other. That is special. There are some people that go through life and they never experience even an ounce of what we had.

You opened my soul and my heart and taught me how to truly love a woman.

So I pray that He will hold you heart and our daughter's soul safe in His hands, always.

Love always

George

GAH - the truthseeker