Reflecting

I envision my older self as a woman who has come to embody the beauty and sorrow of loss—a loss so deeply ingrained that it has become an indelible part of her being. Yet, rather than concealing it, she wears this absence like precious jewels, each one a reminder of the moments that transformed her.

In quiet solitude, I wonder if I will always find myself waiting for him to come for me—a hope both fragile and eternal. Will I continue to carry his absence in my eyes, as constant and graceful as the silk scarf that rests around my neck? And is it possible that the tender memory of the way he once looked at me will remain etched in my soul, accompanying me to my final breath