Liz Madsen's Real Deal

It’s 12 pm. I turn on my computer and one of the first things I do is check my e-mail. It’s a private e-mail, one almost nobody has. At least not someone who’d know it’s me.

I check it every single day, if I can. I secretly (well maybe one or two people know) hope I’ll see his name in my inbox again. I think it’ll never happen. My story with him is long buried, yet still alive. I will never forget it. I managed to push away the bad parts, throw away the sad parts and what’s left is only the goodness… “Oh the pieces of my life, Lord, they’re everywhere, they’re everywhere.”

I still hold the token he gave me. I will never part it. It doesn’t even remind me of his being. It reminds me of his goodness,  of what goodness can exist in a human being, of the fact that dreams can become reality, if only for a moment or two.

I don’t remember him much these days, except for few irregular nights when I find myself missing his goodness. His words. His hugs.

He’s just a human being now to me. A very intelligent and cultured one. One I have  shared my whole self with. One that I deeply resonated with. One that will hold a special place in my heart forever. One that I will always love and most likely one of the top 3 human beings I’ve ever met. Yet just a human being.

Life goes on without him.  Yet his token is always with me. It has become part of me, just as he became part of me. He’s affected my life in ways I may never be able to describe. He was one of the few people who changed me most. And through that, if not more, he’ll always be with me.

And there I went and made a whole  deal out of a little thing. But I had to show just how much this person means to me, before I said what happened.

Eventually one day, after a looooooooooong long time of not speaking. IT CAME. In my JUNK MAIL. Will never understand how it got there, but it came. And… Again… “I could hear nothing, not a single sound on the streets of wherever I was, just the beating of my own heart. I have mail. From YOU.”

So I eventually answered it, because I saw it late. Nothing much said, just bla blas. And then he answered back. In two short phrases.

What was in the e-mails is not important. It was nothing much than day to day things, like “how are you” and such.

And then I didn’t answer. I just didn’t know what to say. All  words seemed unimportant and unnecessary. Days passed, weeks passed and I couldn’t utter a word. I just didn’t find it in myself.

What’s funny though is that… I still check my e-mail. For the same name. At least three times per week, or once everyday (if I have access everyday).

And I do believe I’ll be checking for his name every time I get the chance for a long time.

Why? I don’t know. I really don’t.  It’s not even about reading him, although I deeply missed his words for a long time. It’s just about seeing his name there.

This text most likely has no meaning. It shouldn’t even be here. But… Yeah… Well… The pieces of my life, Lord, they’re everywhere, they’re everywhere.

It’s just a text…

Posted by Liz Madsen on June 16, 2009 at 9:56 pm
Filed under Painful sweetness  |  Tags: e-mail, just a text, you've got m@il  |  Leave a comment  |  Trackback URI