sonsun92

[sonsun92]

My love for Finny is buried like a stillborn child; it is just as cherished and just as real, but nothing will ever come of it. I imagine it wrapped up in lace, tucked away in a quiet corner of my heart. It will stay there for the rest of my life, and when I die, it will die with me.

[sonsun92]

And I love him. For all of my memory, I have loved him; I do not even notice it anymore. I feel what I have always felt when I look at him, and I have never before asked myself what it is exactly. I love him in a way I cannot define, as if my love were an organ within my body that I could not live without yet could not pick out of an anatomy book.

I do not love him the way I love Jaime. It's not the way I love Sasha or my mother or Mr. Laughegan.

It's the way I love Finny.

And it's impossible to say and even harder to feel.

[sonsun92]

When I let myself remember how we used to be, it is hard to believe things could change so quickly.

[sonsun92]

As I listen, I let my gaze wander around. I know it's impossible that every day I spent in here was happy, but that is how I remember it.

[sonsun92]

The two of us were so very, very well matched, so don't you think it was strange we were kept apart from each other?

I wanted to lie in his arms forever.

[sonsun92]

The road was lined as far as the eye could see with those purple and yellow flowers.

On the drive, I saw even more lovely scenery for the first time.

White birches with pale trunks, mountain ash with red clusters of berries like bells.

"Wow! Would you look at how red those berries are!" Satoru called out, and that's how I learned about the color red. It no doubt appeared differently to Satoru, but I learned how what Satoru called red appeared to me.

I just learned to distinguish, in my own way of seeing things, the variations of red that Satoru pointed out, but also that they did all indeed share the same color. For the rest of my life, I would remember all the shades of red Satoru mentioned that day.

[sonsun92]

The wind was rustling, the ears of the pampas grass swaying. The waves were rolling further than the eye could see.

It was just as Satoru had said. This was like a sea on land. Unlike the sea, though, there was no heavy booming sound. In this kind of sea, I might be able to swim.

[sonsun92]

"Tsukiko, how much longer do you think I'll live?" Sensei asked abruptly.

I met Sensei's gaze. His eyes were placid.

"A very, very long time," I cried out reflexively. The young couple sitting on the next bench turned around in surprise. Several pigeons took flight.

"You know that's not the case."

"But still, a long time."

Sensei took my left hand in his right hand, his dry palm enveloping mine.

"And would you not be satisfied, if it weren't a long time?"

[sonsun92]

Sensei and I sat down on a sofa on the staircase's landing. Numerous people passed before us. Tsukiko, was that boring for you? Sensei asked.

No, it was rather interesting, I replied, staring at the backsides of the people passing by. I could feel the warmth radiating from Sensei's body. The stirring of emotion returned. The hard sofa with bad springs felt like the most comfortable thing in the world. I was happy to be here like this with Sensei. I was simply happy.

[sonsun92]

I don't care anymore. About love or anything. It doesn't matter what happens.

In truth, it really didn't matter. As long as Sensei was fine and well, that's what was important.

This was enough. I would stop hoping for anything from Sensei, I thought to myself as I walked along the road by the river.

"Sensei," I breathed his name softly, in lieu of a sigh.

"Sensei."

Turning to face toward Sensei, who was now several hundred meters away, I kept on speaking to him. I walked along the length of the river, as if I were having a conversation with the moon. I kept talking, as if forever.

[sonsun92]

“I live with dust on my heart.”

An excerpt from ChatGPT regarding a line in a letter written by Robert Kincaid to Francesca Johnson in the novel The Bridges of Madison Country:

“By stating that he lives with dust on his heart, Robert Kincaid suggests that his heart is burdened, covered, or weighed down by something unresolved or unfulfilled. The "dust" represents the accumulation of emotional pain, regret, or unfulfilled desires. It signifies the remnants of past experiences or relationships that have left a lasting impact on him.

The phrase also implies a sense of isolation or a lack of emotional connection. Dust is often associated with neglect or abandonment, suggesting that Robert Kincaid feels emotionally detached or distant from others. It conveys a sense of longing for a deeper connection or emotional fulfillment that has eluded him.

In the context of the letter to Francesca Johnson, who has been a rare source of connection and love for Robert, he is expressing his vulnerability and the depth of his emotions. He is essentially saying that despite his experiences and the burdens he carries, Francesca has managed to reach his heart and bring it to life.”

[sonsun92]

In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once, and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live.

[sonsun92]

The paradox is this:  If it hadn’t been for Robert Kincaid, I’m not sure I could have stayed on the farm all these years.  In four days, he gave me a lifetime, a universe, and made the separate parts of me into a whole.  I have never stopped thinking of him, not for a moment.  Even when he was not in my conscious mind, I could feel him somewhere, always he was there.

[sonsun92]

The old dreams were good dreams; they didn’t work out, but I’m glad I had them.

[sonsun92]

She could see him clearly also, down the flow of her memory.  Each year she ran all of the images through her mind, meticulously, remembering everything, forgetting nothing, imprinting all of it, forever, like tribesmen passing down an oral history through the generations.  He was tall and thin and hard, and he moved like the grass itself, without effort, gracefully.

[sonsun92]

However much you loved someone, it wasn’t always enough.  Love alone couldn’t keep them safe.

[sonsun92]

“I never said goodbye.”

“Such needless word,” she said, “when you love somebody.”