flying bye

You're running away from me. I can feel it now.

I understand. You never promised, and neither did I. I know I can probably stop you, make everything easy, with a declaration, a sincere squeeze of the hand; but I am honest, too, and I cannot do that for you. I'm sorry. I wish, more than anything, that I could adjust a few details and restitch our histories together; make these weights and shadows disappear. But life only plods on when all you do is wish. I just can't wait for magic tricks.

I hope you will have good stories to tell me one of these days, an honest story, without holes, without conveniently misplaced details and that you will be able tell it with a bright smile and a confident twinkle in your eye. I want to be assured that I can admire you without an asterisk. Is it possible? If I could will it to happen, I would.