It’s my ‘memories of you’ box. You know, in case you do disappear one day.
The whole house was ringing. I ran down the stairs, barely keeping myself from tripping over each step. This was the first time in weeks where I had the opportunity to sleep for more than five hours, and I wasn’t about to let whoever was at the door ruin it for me. Outside, the postman was waiting with a package under his arm. I quickly opened the door, signed the slip and shooed him away. I checked who the return address belonged to, and immediately started to panic. It had been a year since I last spoke to him.
I carried the package up to my room and untied the string holding it together. Contained inside were mementos from our time together: photos, mixtapes, even the plastic of the ring pop he jokingly used to propose to me with one night. Deeper inside I found a small, velvet box. I gasped. No, he couldn’t have. I lifted the top open, and inside was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. It was a white-gold band decorated with diamonds and in the middle a single pearl, my birthstone. I held the ring up to the light, and watched as it sparkled back at me.
I broke down. All of the memories we had shared came rushing back to me. I missed him so much. I wanted to be wrapped inside his arms again. I wanted to cuddle next to him on our bed, and listen to him sing to me again. I wanted to feel him kiss my cheek when he thought I finally fell asleep. I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.
And when we’re finally together again, not a moment with you will be taken for granted. Because I’m sick of every moment without.
