Three months. Probably the longest time this blog has been put on hold.
What could ever happen in three months?
Probably enough time to learn the basics of playing a guitar. Or brushing up your Spanish you first learned in college. Or mastering the art of breaking an egg in between your middle finger and thumb. Or knowing that breaking one is art in the first place.
Or piling up requirements for grad school, scrambling for recommendations, submitting late because you were never on time. Never.
Three months is enough to quit a job, sulk in a corner, and stalk people you knew and how life seemed pretty good at them. Or how ‘pretty’ and ‘you’ can never be in one sentence.
Or maybe three months will do for a much-deserved, your words, sleep. It’s like trying to get even with those days you spent without a hint of sleep. In college, when you were cramming your thesis. In life, when the guy you thought you loved broke your heart. As if you can take the train back to the past, blot a white ink on your mistakes, and do the same mistakes when you’re sane and okay again. As if you can do that.
Three months. Enough to discover a quaint coffee shop three corners from where you work, never missing an afternoon spent with the bitter aroma of espresso, loving it so much that you get used to it all to soon, realizing that after all, maybe, you don’t like it that much.
Some sappy movie told you that there are people who are only better at first-time encounters.
You are good at staying–for three months.
Three months. Quite adequate to know someone; but maybe not long enough to hang in there for a little more time.