Holding onto Sand

To The Lady on the Train,

Ten years ago on this day, it was warm with a sunny haze that clung to the earth and our skin. We made love in the morning and then we drove west along 401. We would have held hands and talked along the way.

We walked around the small town to look for food and then we saw the musical for which we travelled the 3 hours. The tickets were a gift to me from you, and maybe you felt obligated to be there.

It was a good day in the midst of a difficult time for us, and it would be the last day for me to hold you.

I remember this day with bittersweet emotions, but I think, mostly with a sadness.

We were at a falling apart and not knowing how to not let it fall apart. This day was the last of the sand slipping through fingers, and no matter how tight you try to hold on, the sand only runs faster. 

The irony only strikes me now - us holding onto sand and the hero of the musical trying to hold onto his relevance and vigour. We are all changed by time and there is no going back.

But there is always forward. 

And for us, there is always an always.

Always,

The Man in the Station