This land is Mine

Striding across Tower Bridge against the full force of the wind, looking out upon the Thames on a surprisingly mild, and calm evening after the tumultous chaos of a day gone horribly wrong, he wonders how She got on in the end. How she's feeling, who she came here with - if they're happy. He wonders how the story ended for her.

And He realises these stories here have come to a close.

Make what you want to, stranger, out of these entries. He's still trying to make sense out of them - not what he wants to - it's too hard to face up to the reality that all that once was, is lost. But just to make sense of them.

And if You ever wander across these pages - as unlikely as that seems - then this is the Other side of the Coin. These are the words I kept silent from You; These are the realities that would have confounded Rachel (and proven conclusively that You weren't dealing with someone in possession of all his marbles), and these are the myriad memories I could neither pen to paper, nor verbalise a confused evening a long time ago. Nor even when I had second chances, on the telephone across the world, on the internet, and in person. You told me a lot about what You'd felt then. I held my peace, damn that Y chromosome.

This is how I felt, about You; these are the things I thought.

This is how I remember You.

This is how I tried to bury Your memory.

This is how I failed.

Make what You want to out of this. Or don't. Hate me for them, or forgive me. I ask only a lack of apathy - and a bit of empathy.

Know that I remember You well.
That afternoon when She was an hour forty-five minutes late for lunch, He wasn't angry, or irritated. He'd felt by turns sad, and a bit resigned. Then a little confused, and maybe a touch of agitation, then he settled down to stare morosely out over the scene of kids playing in the pool downstairs.
When She finally appeared - and He stayed out of hope, not stupidity -- He felt only joy. And relief. And everything just melted away the second those glass doors slid open and She grinned apologetically.
Everything melted away, the second She smiled, striding down the corridor of a particularly ugly shopping complex.
Everything melted away, the second her face lit up when She lifted Paddington out of his holding cell.
Everything melted away, the second She opened the door to his hesitant knocking (and answered the unspoken question playing in his mind : "Oh my God, what do I do if someone else opens the door?")
Everything melted away, the second he caught her gaze as he turned around.

That's how it always was. For him.
******
This land is mine
but I'll let You through
I let you navigate on demand
Just as long as You know, this land is mine