View this post on Instagram

 

{*Did you know you can write on Elephant? Here’s how—big changes: How to Write & Make Money or at least Be of Benefit on Elephant. ~ Waylon}

~

My finger hovers over the button. “Should I, or should I not send?”

The thought passes through my mind only a millisecond before my finger firmly presses down. I don’t even know why I pause anymore; the answer is always an unwavering “yes.”

I guess what I want you to know is, I’m the kind of person who likes to take a risk, a bit of a gamble. Not that it’s a game, mind. I am only ever sincere in my gestures. But I like to be bold. For why would one ever do anything in halves? Especially when it comes to potentially rekindling a lost connection.

The scenarios which lead me to write to you are always unique. We might be long lost friends out of touch for a decade-plus. Not from any wrongdoing from either party, more from “life getting in the way.” Or we may have, at some point, been friends-come-lovers, the “never quite there” lovers, or the more gut-wrenching “you broke my heart” lovers. Perhaps we once had a holiday romance. Or a deep-but-fleeting platonic interaction that resembled a holiday romance, minus the hookup.

Yet connection is the thread of commonality that weaves through our storied interactions. I think of you fondly. Like a cosy blanket; the memories I have of us envelope me in a warm embrace.

Of course, I can’t deny we might have had our tricky patches; it wasn’t always smooth sailing. But time has a softening effect. Just like the sea pummels the pebbles as the waves wash up against the shore, the sea of time has smoothed over our edges. I’m left with only tender memories, ones that warm my sweet little heart.

And time has moved on, but my memories are sporadic and soul-stirring. You may have been the subject of one of my dreams, or you popped into my head while I was doing the laundry. Sure, I could have defaulted to doing nothing and moved on with my day. But I think of it as an invitation.

Never has it occurred to me to pass up the opportunity to reconnect once the seed has been planted. There is no way I can be sure that the roots have been adequately watered on your side of the fence. I imagine a garden of wildflowers, but who’s to know if spring has sprung this year, or perhaps even at all?

I have a wild penchant for nostalgia, and I think of stories like The Notebook and Love in the Time of Cholera more as roadmaps for life as opposed to fictional stories designed as entertainment.

And you see, I also recognize this type of yearning says infinitely more about me than it does about you—in the way our actions always speak volumes. It’s as if I’m searching for something in this spontaneous bid for reconnection. I imagine in seeking out the connection, there is a lost part of myself I want to revisit.

I think of myself as that innocent 16, 20, 24-year-old and I long to go back to the naivety of those primordial years. The one who was endearingly optimistic, the one who was clueless, the one who had absolutely no idea what was coming.

I guess in a way, I’m just wandering the earth searching far and wide for the lost parts of myself. For the parts of my psyche that were shed throughout my various lifetimes, through the many chapters I’ve lived.

But if I think about it, I guess we’re all kind of doing that in one form or another, aren’t we? Seeking to reclaim something that was once ours. Whether it’s our youth, or that cute hair cut, those skinny jeans we once fit into, or a mere moment in time where we once felt free, nurtured, where we felt truly loved.

By nature, I’m a curious being and I want to hear how you’re doing. Not out of nosiness, although allow me to indulge my sheer inquisitiveness; twenty years have passed. I sincerely care for your well-being. Time has not changed this.

Things have not been so easy on my end, I’m happy to admit—let’s reconnect over our shared humanity and humility. Let’s exchange tales of our ebbs and flows, the highs as well as the lows, not forgetting the mediocre just for balance.

And whether or not you respond to my invitation, I want you to know I wish you well. I’m glad our souls got to meet in this lifetime.

What if? What if? What if? I ask myself. What will I find? What will I learn? What might I be able to reclaim in daring to risk my pride for a mere moment, putting aside my ego in taking the opportunity to potentially revive a lost connection?

And then the realisation dawns on me.

I don’t need you to respond to reclaim this lost part of myself. That part was never yours to give back to me.

It makes me think of a paper message in a glass bottle. As long as the seal stays tight, the glass bottle keeps the paper intact. The passage of time and the rough seas do not change the nature of the words themselves or the intention with which the bearer sent the message.

They say a fallen tree in a forest with no one there to witness doesn’t make a sound, but that’s only noise; it doesn’t mean the tree didn’t fall. I say intention matters more than the way in which the message is received.

Retracing our history, I realise I don’t need you to receive or witness my message or bid for reconnection. Just maybe I’ve already reclaimed the lost part of myself in the act of reaching out.

And in this act, I’ve managed to preserve this part of myself and our history like a paper message in a glass bottle.

~

{Please consider Boosting our authors’ articles in their first week to help them win Elephant’s Ecosystem so they can get paid and write more.}