Last days of  winter, spring showing signs that she is coming with her most beautiful smile.  I wake up as the early sunrays rushes in to the room from the single window right above my bed where I gaze at stars at night and wonder if there is life out there.  It always cheers me up to wake up with a sun shining on my face like a mother would wake her child in the morning for them to get ready to go to a picnic. 

I go downstairs to the kitchen like I always on Saturdays without changing my PJs, knowing that I will be in them for couple of hours more.  Having a breakfast on a Saturday or Sunday morning is like a ritual.  Getting the table ready starting with the cutlery and plates and glasses.  But this Saturday it won’t be going to take much time since I am the only resident in the house.  After putting the glass on the glass table, hearing the sound of two glass meeting each other, suddenly takes me to last night when I was having dinner with her and we were tapping our glasses full of Chardonnay Red wine wishing the night wouldn’t end that day.  As I put the olives seeing that the green and black olives mixed in a bowl seasoned with spices, I notice I have already placed the jams and the cheese on the table.  I return to the counter where the coffee maker is and push the brew button knowing that I had prepared it last night like I always do before I go to bet.  Since I have to wait for couple of minutes for the coffee to be ready I decide to go outside to have some fresh air of the new day.  As soon as I open the door at the front, the cold winter air rushes into my lungs through my nostrils as if they are running away from something and that my lungs are the safest they could find to hide.  I gaze away from my porch covered with snow like the valleys down below, and hills farther away.  I see the scattered houses over the valley with only one of them having smoke coming out of  its chimney. 

Standing at the front door staring at the beauties of the world I think of her.  She is probably awake by now and having breakfast.  I have this urge to call her but I know that she doesn’t like to be bothered when she is with her parents, so I wait for her to call me, but it’s alright because I know she will call. 

As I shiver because of the cold breeze caressing my bare skin I turn back inside to have my breakfast.  Before I go back to the kitchen I go to the living room next to the kitchen to turn on some music.  I go down to the music set which I had it for three years, is one of the most important things for me like the CDs, books, and photo albums.  I put on Eric Clapton’s Unplugged album which the guy I had bought it from said that Eric Clapton’s music is like candy and this album is the sweetest one.  I turned up the volume so that I could hear it from the kitchen, and as I went back to the kitchen I notice that the plants in the living room needs watering so I tell myself to remind myself to water them after breakfast.

I go back to the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee and put some brown sugar, and before I sit at the table I decide to open the window so that the fresh smell and the coffee smell would mix.  As I open the window, bird’s singing comes in trying to accompany Eric Clapton’s San Francisco Bay Blues song.

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Now I am at my living room with a book of Ayn Rand which I have been reading it for four days now.  It has been more than a hour since I have finished my breakfast, and cleaned up the kitchen, and watered the plants and now it is getting hard to concentrate on what I am reading, because I’m thinking why she hasn’t called yet.  I put down the book on the side table next to a cat figure which I had made out of clay long time ago.  Picked up my empty cup, went to the music set to turn it off and went to the kitchen still wearing my PJ.  I put the cup in the sink and didn’t feel like washing it, I decided to go up and take a shower. On my way up I got the phone with me so if she calls I would hear it.  I had to go through the bedroom to get to the shower, but when I went in the room it seemed a bit cluttered so I decided to fix up the room a little, hoping that it would get my mind busy.  I started with the bed that I didn’t fix when I woke up.  Then I hanged my suit and shirt which I had wore last night and after hanged it on the back of the chair at my study desk, where piles of papers are waiting to be graded.  But as I was putting the suit back in the closet, I saw a paper in the pocket of the jacket which I know I don't have anything in that pocket because I don't use those pockets at all.  With curiosity I took the paper out of the pocket noticing that it was neatly folded into four.  The paper was at the shade of a pastal blue of the sky with my name handwritten and a drawing of a yellow tulip on the front.  I unfolded it and read the first three words "To My Life,".  That's how we would call to eachother.  She was my life as I was hers.  I read the rest.

It's been almost four years "my life", since my heart started beating as one with your heart.  Four years I have fallen asleep thinking you, and hoping to make it through the night to see you the next day.  I have cried because of you, I have laughed because of you, I have worried because of you, I felt safe because of you.  After I have met you I have been through alot of state of emotions.  The joy, sarrow, fear, but the best of all the love.  I felt loved.