two years

Two years.

No, not really. More like one year eleven months and some days. But my thoughts are centered on that day, "two years" from now.

Two years. Not really a long time to wait for someone who had just spent about 21 tedious and not so tedious years of studying. Not really a difficult wait for someone who's supposed to be hell-bent on studying for four months and some days more. Two years until that fated day isn't as nerve-racking a wait than that for the dreaded results of the 2009 bar examinations. "Two years" is nothing, then.

Two years. If I had not looked for you tonight, I wouldn't have known I'd be waiting. For two years. You said you were old. But I see nothing of the years, just the little boy who sings me to sleep, the shy smile, the silent strength. I would not have seen the change: you cut your hair. I don't think much of it. I still see you, a couple of months before. Everything will be fine, I tell myself. Two years is enough time for your hair to grow back. To how things had been.

When I saw you tonight, I immediately felt guilty for being unfaithful to my books. The day pulled me into a haze and I couldn't focus. I did a lot; yet, I did nothing necessary. All throughout, I kept pushing your voice away. And to occupy my thoughts, I did everything and nothing. But dusk carried thoughts of you and your lines again. At least, I thought it did; it is just now that I realized, you and your lines were always with me, like a background melody to a poignant movie. That's why I looked for you.

When I found you, everything and nothing immediately shut down. And out. You reminded me of my purpose, my goal. And I refocused. Two years will do it for both of us. There's no escape for you; I call it a sacrifice, you call it your responsibility. A necessary two year break from the craziness. I think about it and realize: for two years, I'd only be able to think of you, hear memories of you. But not hear from you. (And I'd content myself with that, lest I hear from you and hear... pain.)

It won't be a difficult wait. I have enough of your laugh and your smile to last me through years and years. By the time that fated day comes, one year eleven months and some days from now, "two years" would have elapsed and we will be two changed persons. I will not promise to go looking for you that day. You may not arrive. But I, I will still be here wondering if there will be any certainty to our paths.

I wonder, will this necessary break build me a bridge to where you will be then? No answer for that. But I will do my end of the "two year responsibility". For myself and no one else.Two years, after all, is never a difficult wait for the impossible to happen.