Winter, wonder, wander: A letter to you

| December 5, 2017 | 0 Comments

Dear ____________,

I do not know if you deserve my words. All I know is that my words are beginning to come alive again because of you; I suppose that should be enough reason for you to have them.

The idea of you felt too good to be dedicated to me. No, I do not mean that in the sad girl archetype you would wish for almost as much as we willed Holden Caulfield into existence once upon a time. I mean that in the pragmatism I constantly try to aim for: it’s the pragmatism that hugged you when we saw each other again without a fluttering heart, and the same pragmatism that avoided focusing on the color of your eyes – if I cannot remember the grey that means I cannot fall for them, right?

We do not know each other. I curse time for that and the earth that you are not grounded by. Your thoughts are fleeting, but you attracted me because when we lock eyes, when we laugh, I had the illusion of thinking that I would soon be in your orbit. Oh, how wrong I was.

Do you think we would have circled every question under the sun if we had the time to sync up? Do you think there would be an alternate reality where our first good mornings would be to each other? I would like to think so.

But then I wonder if I am cut out for it. I venture to look inside my heart (a self-reflection I have oh so dreaded) to find that my human connections are fleeting too. Here I am every bit as whimsical as you, but every bit better at hiding it.

Maybe I was attracted to your success – it showed me what I could have been if I had truly embraced who I was; if society had not made me its byproduct and if every “how are you” I mouthed was sincere. Maybe my moments of anxiousness arrived from me trying to be grounded when I, too, was meant to fly.

I wish you knew how much you changed my life in the most ephemeral winter I ever had. You are not a crush or an unresolved feeling – you were the catalyst to literature I had forgotten and comfort I had buried. You reminded me how beautiful air can be when I share it with just my thoughts and how incredible it can feel to talk about the proverbial “life” without thinking of a solution to every problem.

Thank you for laughter lines and joyous cries. I long for the day our thoughts materialize into concrete; maybe our statues will stay in place long enough for us to be friends.




featured photo credit: Jyrki Salmi Icy River via photopin (license)

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Category: featured, Poetry, Prose and Comedy

Hansika Ramchandani

About the Author ()

Hansika Ramchandani is a Junior double majoring in History and International Relations. She loves it when you laugh at all of her [not] funny jokes and accept the fact that she needs yet another cup of coffee.

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