Today’s walk led me to a place I have not been in a while. The smell of the ocean, the cold wind gently whispering its secrets and compliments to my ears- I was not there anymore. It took me back some years ago, when my life was different- not bad, but different:

I remembered the day I could simply walk away because I was scared of you. Then I imagined what my life would be like if I had never met you at all. In that life, I was living more in my head, doing what people do, following a checklist, and filling my agenda with cool activities to hide from solitude. I embraced my solitude, masking it as a sensitive but distant person who enjoyed silence and photography.

It looked good, but somehow made me nostalgic, because those parts of me were alive to heal a broken heart. But then a sweet voice brought me back to the boardwalk;

“Dad, where is Mom?” Sophie always waits for answers, looking straight into your eyes as if she could download the answers from them. She has big, beautiful brown eyes. She is six years old. – Mom is at home, darling, I replied. – Is she joining us? – I am sure she will. – How can you be sure? – Because she always does. – What if she does not come? She will, sweetheart. – Can you read her mind? – I burst out laughing. – Thank God I cannot. Nobody reads minds. – But she can read yours. She always knows what you are thinking. – Oh, I did not know that. Do not tell her you told me. Deal? – Deal.

We sat on a bench, looking at the water and watching birds. Sophie does not like birds, but she is so curious about flying, especially after I told her we could, with our minds, go anywhere, even to another life. I know it was too complex a concept for a kid, but she is so smart. She noticed I was flying right there next to her because she asked: “Where are you now, Dad?”

I was in a park eight years ago, flirting with you. I had my hand on your shoulder, moving your hair to uncover your neck and telling you how sexy it is. We were friends at that time, and even though I was appreciating how sexy your neck was, I saw that glimpse in your eyes that made me wonder how great it would be to be folding washed clothes next to you, sitting on the sofa, carrying your feet on my legs, hearing how fast you turn book pages and admiring how fast you read, noticing you interrupt your reading to look at me while I pretend I did not notice it, with my heart beating happily. 

My hand on your face made me wonder how great it would be to take a road trip along the West Coast of the United States. I’m driving while we talk about history. You fed me snacks and pointed out the funny billboards on the road, the kind of signs with lawyers saying, “Injured? Good. Call us.” 

We had fun messing with strangers in restaurants and bars on the road, playing fake roles and inventing funny stories about how we met, and our fake dream of becoming Bolivian citizens. It was a great time.

We stopped close to Canyonlands to stretch our legs and see how beautiful a sunset could be, not just because of nature, but because we were together. 

On that trip, we created Sophie, so yeah. I could not really tell her where I was, so I told her, “I am in a happy place now.” She replied, “I am in a happy place too.”

Our lives are great. I cannot read your mind, but your eyes tell me more than you want them to tell. But you are not closed. Especially since we decided to be together. I feel your love. I told you I wanted to make you feel like you have never loved before. And you made it. I felt fortunate. I still feel it every day: when you smell your coffee after the first sip, when you smile over a lost thought, when you are curious and do this look you do when you are curious. I cannot ask for more when we lie down with your head on my chest after sex. When Sophie makes us part of her plays, and we coordinate to take advantage of any opportunity to turn play into life training. However, we end up making a fantastic stage play, and we discover or learn more from her than she does from us.

And here you come, Sophie hugs you as if she hadn’t seen you in months and steals my moment, giving you the flowers I got for you—lilies this time, white ones. I kiss you as if I haven’t seen you in decades and hold you in a hug because this moment will not last long, like life itself. 

And I had to come back to this timeline where there is no Sophie, there is no us. It is just me fantasizing and reminiscing about memories and possibilities, admiring the place I once called home, but not for long. 

And do not get me wrong; I accepted it a long time ago. You moved on, so do I. I do not know whether the time we crossed paths meant anything to you, but it meant a lot to me. 

Although the obvious outcome, I have to accept that every once in a while, when I smell coffee for the first time in the morning, I imagine how it would be, you and me.

Maybe in another life.