My birthday

“Tell me something good.”

“I can’t. I don’t have the words.”

“Yes you do.”

“You know I’m not good in English.”

“Yes you are. Go on, tell me something good.”

“I love you. And I miss you.”

His eyes were closed, head resting on his hand which lay between him and his pillow. At first his words seemed unreal, almost humoured in tone: his go-to when I ask him to open up. But then, as he continued, his tone changed and I knew that every word he said was true.

“I miss your kisses and your hugs. I miss coming to you in the morning and coming next to you in the bed. I miss wrapping your legs with my legs. I miss kissing you and touching your body. I miss making love.

I miss your laughter and your smiles. I miss coming home from work and you’re waiting for me.”

He laughs a little.

“I miss those kisses where I am afraid, but you hold me with both hands and you kiss me again and again. And I am afraid my parents will see but you kiss me again.”

Tears ran down my face as he spoke but I was smiling too. For he said everything that I felt, everything that I loved and everything that I missed too.

The best birthday present I have ever received.

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