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3.11.2009
“What makes a person a runner? Someone who runs. You run. You’re a runner.”
I’m still learning how to define myself.
…
Remember years ago when you asked me what I wanted out of life and I told you I wanted only to love and be loved? A month later you handed me the most beautiful departing letter, though at the time we both didn’t know it was goodbye.
Today I saw a postman during my run. I was rounding out mile four and making deals with myself. The man and his truck were markers in my allowable breaks. I stopped running just as he stopped driving, and slowly walked by him as he got out with letters for other people.
I wanted to follow him home, to look in his cupboards and watch him unwind from a long day. Was this what he had in mind when he dreamt of his future at age 7? I wanted to wrap my fingers around his skull and press my forehead against his. What did you want out of life? Did you get it?
Tell me. I’m sorry. Tell me. Just tell me.
I still have your letter; I keep it tucked away. As per your advice, I unfold it now and again and read it when I think I’m about to float away. It grounds me and I realize, I still do want the same things. I didn’t try to change, but I have and though we’re different people, what I told you years ago still holds true. I still want that life.
