Love, Loss, and Raspberry Scones

Dearest Juanita,

I am currently floating through the tireless void of space.

How are you?

Please don't worry for me, Juanita. The stars will surely guide me home. It's just, old men with estranged hearts and muttered minds tend to grow bitter and world-weary (and melodramatic). And I have, for many years, moved around in circles and marked over squares and appeased the passing of time. What could possibly be the purpose?

Oh, Juanita! The lull of the cosmos has sparked my mind into a delightful frenzy. It makes my bones feel young, and my skin glow like the stars around me. Ah yes, the stars! They sing sweet melodies for my dancing heart.

Perhaps I've had too much coffee...

This morning, just before the sun pierced the horizon, as I sulked in the newly ground snow, the warm scent of freshly baked scones greeted my nose. And for a moment, you and I, we, were back at the bakery on top of the hill.

Remember? The one with a crow in a chef's hat above the entrance (who knew birds could bake?)

We laughed at old blunders and washed down raspberry scones with hot black espresso. You wiped the beads of sweat from the bulb of my nose and smiled when my cheeks turned red.

It was a moment I had lost until this morning. And now, it brings me closer to you.

Last night, from a restless bed and shivering balconet, I pondered the advice of a star with two bright faces. The voices called to me, euphonious and serene.

My dear Abraham, when the cold pass of time whisks you away—

Seek the moments that crystallize you, like snowflakes on your window.

For a time, I laid still. The darkest hours came in a rush, and with it, a bitter blue moon to bear witness. I leaned into the frigid air and humored my shining visitors, who then told me to follow the moon.

I stepped from my door and into the brisk city twilight. The world felt heavy under my boots. The coupled star kept behind me, gliding from one tree to the next.

It whispered chaos in my ears.

Beautiful

defiant

chaos

a mutiny against the very ground that compelled me.

The world absurd, chases its beloved sun through the cosmos but forbids you to do the same?

I ran down the narrow roads of the square; the violent winds lunged at each turn.

And time relentless, for all its fickle demands, takes what you cherish but leaves nothing in return?

I kept on through the alleyways rife with rats and wafts of rotted food. My legs were never so swift. Not even in my younger days. Though, after some distance my bones recalled their age, and I began to slow. Despair coursed through me. Was this a trick? Or had my mind finally sprung?

I trekked up the hill towards the fainted moon with all I had left. And just as I reached the top, my legs flung to the sky!

And my ass thumped into the snow.

In a bitter tone, I yelled at the moon and the star and the crow above the entrance, who gazed down on a pitiful curmudgeon. My eyes shut tight, but could not hold back a gush of tears.

For today, I am one year older and many years removed from everything I have cherished. And still, I find no purpose in a world turning without you, Juanita.

When I saw us together again, bright and fearless, it gave me all I ever needed to soar over that moon and never look back. It was the feeling of new and audacious love that once blushed my face in that bakery on top of the hill.

So here I am, floating across the galaxy, like a snowflake in the sky, with a box of raspberry scones under my arm (and an empty moka pot in my hand), searching for my moment.

Searching for you.

Yours,

Abraham