It took a crisis for his will to return to him.
It took a crisis for him to muster the courage to reach out again.
It took a crisis for his words of perfect curves to reach my desk again.
But by the time it had the crisis had already changed us completely.
I don't look anything like he remembers im sure my hair is red and short with bangs that almost cover my eyes. I am not the small girl in to big jeans and even bigger sweaters with long brown hair that fell down my back in waves.
My hair is straight while I am not, but he doesn't know that.
It seems he doesn't know a lot of things anymore. Like my name, in all our 15 years together it took 3 to forget my name. Funny to remember i always thought he wrote it better.
It took a crisis for him to try again.
It took a crisis for me to cry for him again.
It took a crisis for me to rummage old boxes to find the letters and painting and poems and secrets I keep hidden for years.
It took a crisis for me to write again.
-E.L.
