Tonight I can write the saddest lines... but couldn't.

"It's a boy? It's a boy... It's a boy!"

I held his hand while he was hearing the news from his wife who is a thousand miles away from him. I told him to let it flow, tears aren't meant to hold back. It was a beautiful scene. A father to be. A proud father to be.

I let go of his hand after the conversation. I am happy for him but I couldn't help but feel nostalgic.

***

The scene took me back to April of 2007. I can still see the wide smile that flashed across his face as soon as the radiologist told us the gender of our baby.

A boy. A healthy baby boy.

I started wondering how come my life became as imperfect as it is right now. Three years ago, our family's income could barely keep us alive but, I was happy. Right now, I'm stuck with more financial problems and on top of that, my relationship with him is gradually falling apart.

The answer came to me easily. My life is as imperfect as it is because I willed it to be.

Someday, I will be in a better position. I am certain that I will hurdle over this. These walls I built to guard me against total emotional wreck will go down, I will find somebody who will help me revamp myself. That somebody will help me reunite with the romantic side of me and I will no longer be afraid of rejections.

***

I tried picturing that "somebody" a million times in my head. For a totally obvious reason, I cannot see somebody else portraying that part but you.

I wish we could go back to how things were before. Back to the time when every bad thing fades in the background and our hearts and minds were focused on the positive things that keep us going.

I miss you. I miss the "old you", the one who wrote Itadakimasu on a post-it you placed on top of a meal you prepared.

***

Tonight I can write the saddest lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example,'The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.' The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me. The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same. I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing. Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before. Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes. I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long. Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her. -Pablo Neruda