I Wish I’d Had More Time With You

Time—let me tell you something about it.

Time taught me patience.

The day before our first date, I didn’t know whether I was supposed to send you a text to confirm whether we were still meeting the next day. I hadn’t been on a date for years at that point, so I wasn’t sure if it were up to me or you to verify. My sister told me to wait just a little bit and I did until evening. At 9 p.m., your name popped up on my phone asking me if I was still up for it. Of course I was.

After that date, I knew I wanted to see you again, but I had to be patient because you were out of town for work. Two weeks later, you say you’re back and want to meet again. I was relieved.

With you, patience truly had to be a virtue. I had always been impatient—it’s my worst trait—but I learned to wait. You were always either on the road, too busy with work, or held back by other plans; never once, however, did you make me feel forgotten. You always made time for me when you could.

Time passes by too quickly.

It does, especially when I was enjoying your presence, which was all the time. With what little window you had to come see me, we often tried to make the best out of it. Every sunset we watched always came down too fast, every movie we saw ended too abruptly, every hour so fleeting that midnight always came too soon. It was always the time you had to leave, to get enough sleep to push through the next day.

But you always made goodbyes sweet with a warm hug, a soft voice saying “bye”, and a message left letting me know that you made it home safely. Those messages became our thing; I remember you forgetting to send me one once, but I woke up the next day to you apologizing about forgetting and I joked that I was shocked you’d broken our one unspoken rule. Because that’s what it really was: our only unspoken rule.

Time can stop.

There was this one evening when you asked me if I wanted to take a drive somewhere. We wandered through this road leading up into the mountains: it was dark, quiet, and no other cars were passing through. After a half-hour journey, you stopped by the side of the road. We went down the car and all I saw was a bed of stars like I’ve never seen before. I don’t think I’d ever seen the sky painted with so many bright little dots, it was breathtaking. You sat on the edge of the backseat with the door open, put your glasses on, and gazed up above as you rambled about outer space and our mere existence. But I couldn’t let out a single word, not because of the view; I was mesmerized by you. Not long after that, a shooting star passed by. That was the first time I’d seen one since I was a kid. The moment was so beautiful, I felt like we’d live in it forever.

Other beautiful moments with you also made me feel like the world had stopped spinning. Like the one on our third date when we met for coffee and, as we were standing in a room full of people waiting for the bill, you wrapped your arm around my shoulder and pulled me in gently for a hug. Or that night in your bed when I had bad foot cramps and I watched as you massaged them until the pain was gone.

But time isn’t always on your side.

I thought we were in a great place, after months of being in each other’s lives. But one day, you disappeared. You told me you had to take some time for yourself, and I hadn’t heard from you since. I spent days wondering what had happened, if I’d done something to push you away, racking my mind by playing scenarios, over and over again, of the days leading up to that to figure out what went wrong. You were just gone.

And after two long weeks of silence, I see you walk in, at the most unexpected time, at a restaurant downtown. I was shaken, frozen in place, sight turning pitch-black, because by then I was already losing all sense of hope of ever seeing or hearing from you again. You came over to greet me, gave me an awkward hug, and proceeded to have dinner with your mom. My father was worried because I had turned pale. Time had stopped and dragged on until you left with nothing but a short goodbye. I waited the entire night for a text from you, hoping that maybe seeing me again might have flickered a light in you. It didn’t.

So, once again, my sister tells me to wait. “Maybe he just needs more time,” she says. But the days carry on as my heart longs for you, as I pull all the strength needed to stop myself from breaking the dead air between us, as I pray to the gods that control time to just bring you back to me, because I’m tired of looking back and reliving our best memories. How much more time?

Time with you.

It’s all I ever wanted. The one thing I wish I had.