Fleeting Memoirs

To The Person

TO THE PERSON

Dear person—the one I will love, the one I will spend the rest of my life with;

Blue must be your favorite color, or maybe red, or orange, or somewhere between the shades of purple and pink, or black. Whatever it is, I am happy to know that you have one. You must have been loved enough. Maybe if you ask me what's mine, please don't freak out when I tell you that the color of your eyes is my favorite and even the color of your skin when the dwindling light dances on it, and the color of your hair as slivers of moonlight touch it, will be my favorites. And I will not lie about it.

I love you even though it'll take me years to learn the best parts of you are the ones unseen. The ones I will still uncover from the sound of your laughter, your silly jokes, and your red, swollen eyes from crying the other night because of a movie we watch together. Your worst nights. Your bad days. Your best days. Your "I'm too lazy to do anything" days. I will love every single day if it means I get to spend it with you.

We will be apart at some point, but never by heart. I will wait until you come back home and maybe cook you your favorite meals.

I miss you, even though I still might have not met you yet. Well, maybe I already have. Whoever you are, I am waiting for you.

Every night, I will thank God for bringing you to me and me to you, that He thought of me while He was molding you in His palms. That we disintegrated from the same star, to find each other here on Earth. Most of all, I will be thankful that you are mine to cherish in the best days of my life, to love you at your lowest, and to take care of when your body refuses to get up from bed.

We will find each other someday. I will hold on to that tiny, fragile hope.

I believe that God will lead me to you when He says so.

Love,

Me.