I remember. When we used to walk along the sidewalk. Have just got off the bus, and we are holding hands while walking. We pay adherence to the eternal cliché, but really, we don’t care at all. We are happy. As we pass the grocery store, and the little food stall. I wonder aloud whether we could eat those cold sunny side ups, hotdogs and fried fish for breakfast. No, my stomach ironically grumbles. Looks unappealing even for the wretched old dogs around. Then a stray cat. Was strangely amused at your phobia. I remember. One time I took your hand and guided you toward a kitten. You were half blind, not wearing contacts, and you literally jumped and scampered from left to right. You, pounding my right arm as I grinned. Bad me. I wanted you to conquer your fear… And I keep saying sorry as we pass the tricycle drivers. So early in the morning and they already exude the scent of the working people – did they take a bath that morning? Some of them block our path, and we briefly let go of our hands to navigate through the throngs of people coming our way. Then we turn left; pass the little fruit stand flaunting scores of rotting bananas. The way clears. We link, hhww again. A few more meters and we approach the pan de sal store. Then you tug at my jacket (like a kid, really), urging me to buy you bread.… Sometimes I do. But oftentimes I don’t. I remember, I kept saying it will ruin your appetite for breakfast. Then you had pouted during the times I said no. Cute pout, though. Sometimes you’d softly cry like a child. And I’d see your lips turn radically red. I melt, really… We walk a few lengths. Then we arrive at home. Lucrecia will surely be awake. She always greets you first, because she loves you more than her biological uncle. I am amused, that’s perfectly okay. Then she’ll ask for her treat. You two shall venture outside and I won’t be suprised when you return bearing candies, bread and cake. Stubborn you… I remember. You are a sweet purty little thing, and I love you, and I don’t understand why I keep saying no. And during this time of separation, I regret every time I lost my temper or said no. But such is life my dear Hobbes. Come October, everything will be perfect. That I promise you.
