Work Text:
Sometimes I'd sit and wonder, if I'd have met her in any other circumstance, would I still love her so?
If I'd bumped into her in the street, would her oblivious nature irritated me or intrigued me? Would her blue eyes seem as beautiful as they do to me now?
If she were my neighbour, would I have banged on her front door when she played her music too loud? Would I have watched longingly as she fetched her mail in her pyjamas. Would I have fucked her? Would I have married her or would I have repulsed her?
If she were just my co-worker, for one month only, would the chemistry that we felt that day keep us so inexplicably tied to one another for the rest of our lives? Would each time that we bumped into each other be filled with unfinished sentences and knowing looks?
If I met her now, the woman that has seen and been through it all, would I love her like I do? Would I hold her at night and tell her how beautiful she was in the mornings? Would I cry after a fight or become depressed after a night apart? Is the only thing keeping us together now the times we have shared in each other's company for so many years?
It does not matter what I would feel for her in any other circumstance. Because all that matters is what I feel for her now in this life. In the life where we worked together and we fought together and we loved together.
I love her.
I have known her for forty years, and I am sure that in this life I have loved her for every second. I will never stop loving her.
But soon I will stop being able to show her how much I love her.
I want her to read this letter every time I forget our anniversary, or her name slips my mind. I want her to study these words when my face shows no recognition when she walks up to me, or the stories she tells me of our love will seem like fairytales.
Sometimes I'd sit and wonder, if I'd have met her in any other circumstance, would I still love her so?
Probably not.
But I knew that I would never have been able to forget her. Whether she was a woman not looking where she was going down a busy sidewalk, or a noisy neighbour, or even a green actress, with bright blue eyes and full red lips, I knew, that I could never forget her.
I want her to know now that I love her. I want her to know now that I never wanted to forget her. I want her to read these words back to herself like a mantra.
I love you Gillian.
D.
"Hey Mum. How was David?"
She folded up the paper she was reading, slipping it into the pocket of her coat.
"Better than yesterday. He remembered you from your visit on the weekend. He asked how you were. I told him you were fine. The nurses say he's really settling in to life at the home." She stretched as she shucked off her coat and hooked it up next to the door.
"Did he remember you today?" She brushed some lint off her shirt and walked over to her son, lightly brushing his jawline with her wrinkled hand.
"No, but that's okay. I know that he loves me."