Some Things Are Not Allowed To See The Sun Rise.

Dear K, 

I'm in Slovenia now. My heart isn't bruised yet, but I'm bracing for the blow. Time isn't like a river you know. Only our memories are. A river is a very apt metaphor for memories. Because rivers aren't constant. They fork and branch and flow to the place of least resistance. Rivers fill in gaps where we forget details and they invent new ones, and always they flow forward. We can try and push against the current, but all we can do is look backward up the river. 

I'm homesick, I think. Or I was. I'm with Nejc. He's the person I kept nameless for so long. We're visiting his parents and friends, and all the places that make up his home. We've ridden our bikes around the city, Ljubljana. 

I feel a sort of paralysis here. The whole place is beautiful and, really the word is golden, but I can't touch or experience anything without Nejc by my side. I've never been so dependent on someone. 

To make things worse, I broke down the other night, I started crying. Crying is something I do rarely, but when I cry, I really let go. To calm me down Nejc picked up an english copy of Cat's Cradle and started reading it to me. At first, through the tears, I thought it was ridiculous, and I had to help with a few hard pronunciations. By chapter seven I was no longer crying. Instead, I was listening to his voice, listening to him form the words, like his voice was climbing over slick boulders on a riverbank. The struggle over unfamiliar shapes just to reach me is what brought me out of my tears. 

The next night we had nothing to do so he made tiramisu. As he handed me an oversized fork he explained the rule of tiramisu. "It is such an ephemeral dish" he said, "that it cannot be allowed to see the sun rise." So we ate, we distracted ourselves with talking and watching familiar things. I started eating with hunger, I ate to fill myself, fill the emptiness in my stomach, but soon I started to savor the dessert. We talked and talked, about nothing and everything, we talked just to hear each other's voices, and then we would fall silent just to listen to the other person's silence. 

When we were about halfway done I realized I never wanted the dessert, or the night, or Nejc and I to end. I wanted to be with him at the worn wooden table eating tiramisu forever. 

But some things are not allowed to see the sun rise. 

Hoping the world will stop for a just a little while, 

K.