I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.
The book: A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
From: Geneve, Switzerland; December 31, 2013
My dear friend,
This year I was lucky enough to have seen you. 2013 really, really smiled upon me because she brought to me many encounters with you, and many other friends from all walks of lives already lived. Whether we encounter each other again, I cannot really say for sure; the only definitive is that we did indeed cross paths again this year, and it was beautiful. Those slow-passing moments or those brief hours, that lingering cup of coffee or that endless night, meticulously planned so that we won’t miss each other, or a pleasant surprise we happened to be at the same place at the same time, it’s all etched in my memory.
For now, with only our modern version of pen and paper, I want to thank you so very much for having been part of my life. Thank you for entering it and making it brighter. Thank you for gifting me with those moments of elation and joy and warmth and comfort. Thank you even more being there during those wonderfully painful moments of anguish and loneliness and self-doubt.
Thanks to you, I can feel confident in saying, “I indeed have found you, beauty.”
I found her, in those moments we spent together, when we were reunited, but I also lost her. I had her captured in my shaky hands, but she slipped right through my feeble fingers. That’s okay, though. I’ll keep chasing her, and you, because you’re both not meant to be mine and mine alone. You’re both meant for the world and whoever encounters you even for a brief moment is considered lucky. Me? I’m especially one of the lucky ones.
So, to all the other lucky ones, my friends, the old and the new alike: Happy New Year.
I hope we see very much of each other in what will be the greatest year of our lives, because they just keep getting better.
Have the most joyful of nights,
Memory Moment Fifty Two.