Letters Between Sundays

Do you remember the meaningless moments when our lives were intertwined?

We took them for granted, never knowing the strings we were tying would one day begin to strangle us.

Now, the memories flood my mind, my body reliving moments that once seemed so insignificant. Somehow, they’ve become everything to me.

Do you remember the feeling of water on your tongue, falling from the showerhead?

The way it tickled my tongue, making me laugh as I waited for you to follow. I looked into your eyes, searching for reassurance that we could be children again. That we could laugh like we were seven years old, without a care in the world.

Eventually, my eyes convinced yours to remember what it felt like to simply enjoy being alive.

With shampoo in our hair, we stood beneath the water, taking turns catching it on our tongues. Laughing, playing, making a meaningful memory we didn’t even know we were making.

Do you remember the Sunday mornings?

The sun glaring through our bedroom window as I came home, waiting to feel the warmth of your skin.

An ordinary morning of two souls simply existing.

I’d climb into bed, and you’d smile before pulling me into you. Morning breath never bothered us. We’d lie there talking about what we were going to do that day, taking the morning second by second, unaware that we were living inside a memory we’d someday wish to return to.

Now, those mornings seep into my pillows on an untouched bed.

A memory forever chained to the place where we once lay.

Do you remember our weekly grocery runs?

Another day, another chore to cross off the to-do list.

We bought a watermelon, knowing it was one of the only foods I could enjoy eating.

We stood in our beautiful kitchen at your favorite time of day, when the sunlight hit the window just right, scattering little rainbow crystals all around us.

I sliced the watermelon into fourths while you nagged me to be careful with the knife.

Without hesitation, I buried my face in the watermelon, taking gigantic bites. Juice covered my face and dripped onto my bare feet, leaving a mess beneath me.

I laughed with pure innocence, hoping you’d join me.

And then you did.

Watching you allow yourself to be a child again made my little heart flutter.

You brought your face toward the watermelon, taking a bite just as I had. Juice dripped down your face, and our laughter filled the kitchen.

For a moment, we were simply existing in the world.

Nothing extraordinary had happened.

It was just another grocery run, another afternoon, another moment that would fade into the week like everything else.

Another chore crossed off our list.

But now, that memory plays on repeat whenever my feet cross the threshold of our kitchen.

The scene unfolds in black and white, where rainbow crystals once danced across the walls.

A moment so forgettable that week, yet somehow unforgettable now.

And I think that’s what hurts the most.

It’s not the romantic gestures, the enormous arguments, or the countless tears I’ve cried that return to me the most.

It’s these ordinary, meaningless, forgettable moments we created as fillers in our everyday lives.

The moments we never thought to hold on to because we never imagined we’d have to.

Now, they’re untouchable memories living inside my head.

I can still feel their existence against my skin. I can hear your laughter somewhere in the distance. I can see the empty spaces where we once stood, the gaps we filled without ever realizing they were there.

We were so busy living those moments that we never noticed we were making memories.

And now, I would give anything to live one of those ordinary afternoons without knowing it would someday mean everything.

Do you remember?