Bald-headed
Ch. 34

I love you, Birundasih. I became me because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I have ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, every day we are together is the greatest day of my life. I will always be yours.

And, my dear, you will always be mine.

Quid

I put away those pages and remember sitting with Sugi on our porch when I read this letter for the first time.

It was late afternoon, with red streaks cutting across the summer sky, and the last remnants of the day fading away. The sky slowly changed color, and as I watched the sunset, I remembered thinking of a fleeting moment that flickered when day suddenly turned into night.

Dusk, I realized later, was just an illusion, because the sun was above the horizon or below it. And that means day and night are connected in such a way that few things happen, there cannot be one without the other, yet they cannot exist at the same time.

How does it feel, I remember wondering, always together, yet separated forever?

Looking back, I find it ironic that I chose to read the letter right at the time the question popped into my head. It's ironic, of course, because I know the answer now. I know what it's like to be day and night now, always together, forever apart.

Lovely place we sat this afternoon, Sugi and I. This is the peak of my life. They're here in the river, the birds, the geese, my friends. Their bodies float on cold water, which reflects pieces of their color and makes them appear larger than they really are. Sugi and I, we were fascinated by their magic, and little by little we got to know each other again.

"It's nice talking to you. I feel like I miss him, even if not for long."

I'm sincere and he knows this, but he's still on his guard. I'm a stranger.

"Is this something we do often?" she asked. "Do we often sit here and watch birds? I mean, do we know each other well?"

"Yes and no. I think everyone has a secret, but we've known each other for years."

He looked at her hand, then at mine. He thought about this for a moment, his face so tilted that he looked young again. We don't wear our rings. Again, there is a reason for this. He asked, 'em,

"Have you ever been married?"

i'm nodding.

"Yes." Yeah."

"What's he like?"

I'm telling the truth.

"He was my dream. He made me who I was, and hugging him was more natural to me than my own heartbeat. I think about it all the time. Even now, when I sit here, I think about him. There can't be anything else."

He accepted this. I don't know how she feels about this. Finally she spoke softly, her voice was angelic, sensual. I wonder if he knows I'm thinking about these things.

"Did he die?"

Is that death? I wondered, but I didn't say this. Instead I replied, "My husband is still alive in my heart. And he always will."

"You still love him, don't you?"

He was silent for a moment. He looked away so I couldn't see his face. It's been his habit for years.

"Why are you doing this?" No fear, just curiosity. Lfs nice. I know what that means, but I keep asking.

"What?"

"Why did you spend the day with me?" I smile.

"I'm here because this is where I'm supposed to be. It's not complicated. You and I enjoy ourselves. Don't ignore my time with you - it's not in vain. That's what I want. I sat here and we talked and I thought, What could be better than what I'm doing now?"

He looked me in the eye, and for a moment, for a moment, his eyes sparkled. A slight smile formed on his lips.

"I love being with you, but if what I'm interested in is what you're looking for, you've succeeded. I admit I enjoy being with you, but I know nothing about you. I didn't expect you to tell me your life story, but why are you so mysterious?"

"I've read that men like mysterious strangers."

"Look, you haven't really answered the question. You haven't answered most of my questions. You didn't even tell me how the story ended this morning."

I shrugged my shoulders. We sat quietly for a while. I finally asked.

"Is that true?"

"What is right?" his reply.

"Do men like mysterious strangers?" my clear.

He thought about this for a moment and then laughed. Then he answered as I would.

"I think some guy did it." I asked. "Are you?"

"Now don't put me in a place like that. I don't know you enough to get that." He teases me, and I enjoy it.

We sit still and watch the world around us. It has taken us a lifetime to learn.

It seemed like only the old one could sit next to each other and say nothing and still feel satisfied. The young, brash and impatient, should always break the silence.

It is futile, for silence is pure. Silence is sacred. It brings people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without talking. This is a great paradox.

Time passed, and gradually our breathing began to coincide like this morning. Take a deep breath, take a relaxing breath, and there are times when she falls asleep, as they are often comfortable with each other. I wonder if young people are able to enjoy this. Finally, when he woke up, a miracle happened.

"Did you see that bird?" He pointed far away, and my veins stiffened to stare in the direction he pointed. It's a wonder I can see it, but I can because there's a bright sun shining. Then I pointed too.

"The horned puffin," he said softly, I smiled slightly and we paid our attention to the bird and stared at it as it glided over the stagnant lake water. 

And, like the old habit of being rediscovered, when he lowered his arm, he put his hand on my knee and I was a little surprised but had no objection to it at all.