Hello, I'm In France

Dear friend, 

      The walk to your house from the bus stop took a little longer than I thought it would. Gusts of air from the passing cars on the road beside me disorganized my scrambling thoughts and made me an even bigger mess than I already was (unfortunately but truthfully). 

      The thought of seeing you again, of being beside you as we walked alongside the houses that lined up the street around and ahead of us with the flowers below decorating each side of the concrete our shoes touched. 

      What was there to say? 

     Questions that ultimately create a conflict with no resolution, entropy with its trembling hands on the steering wheel as chance sits comfortably in the backseat with my fickle heart on passenger's side.

     As I approached your home, I whispered a prayer under my breath, a plea to God above for complete confidence and a quick deliverance from the worries and anxieties holed up behind the trenches of my stained soul. I asked Him to take away my ego, and to allow me to act and be my truest self for the short time we would be in each other's presence. 

     I asked for all of these things underneath the trees on the sidewalk across from the street from where your house stood near the corner. 

     I stayed there ahead of the fence of your front yard and watched you lock your door, taking your time down the steps. 

      I greeted you, you greeted me in return. 

     We went for a walk. 

    A journey that led us to a wooden bench with a metal fence a few steps behind and under the sweet shade of green leaves hanging from the trees above. Something about that scene makes me recall older memories of a time that is now long gone, memories that instantly begin to fade with every word and laugh that leaves your mouth and enters the summer air around us. 

     A sense of renewal, a door finally opened after being closed for the past few centuries and lifetimes. 

     I had imagined this exact moment in my head a few weeks before. But there's quite a disparity between dreaming in sleep and dreaming in reality. A difference between living with eyes closed and living with eyes opened. A once distant fantasy becomes reality, waking me up to what it truly means to be alive, trusting my heart before my mind, placing love over logic. 

   On that bench, I surrendered my ego and everything within me that wasn't completely glad for your happiness. I laid bare my selfish desires and allowed you to be as beautiful and wholly yourself as you and everyone deserves to be. And although my words fumbled in my arms and fell into your unsuspecting arms, I'm glad that I've given them to you. 

   That you know what I think of you and who you are to me; someone worth caring for. Thank you for allowing me to share this small piece of myself. 

   I ask that you remember my courage when you find someone as unusually special as I have found in you. 

   After I left your street, I made my way home. I walked into my room and found peace quietly sitting on my bed. I slept restfully that night with pleasant dreams for I knew that I had said what needed to be said, I had pulled the sword from stone and solved the problem; I had found meaning in my feelings and for that moment, felt what it truly meant to be alive. 

   I write this letter in hopes of one day seeing you again. 

 With the shade from trees above our bodies, the whooshing sound the leaves make when the breeze blows through their delicate figures, and the fragile flowers that sway in accordance with the season, buried beneath the snow before blooming in the spring. 

With hope, 

Kyutae Lee, 2016