On this Distance, to Matilda

Maybe the problem of distance, to any twosome, is being distant. Maybe distance is a trial for all, maybe for most. A trial that must come, perhaps—as long as hearts love and hands work.

Maybe there is something about we humans seeing our faces, hearing our voices, feeling the warmth of proximity. Maybe—I really don’t know! Perhaps distance will always breed detachment if man lets it, if two let it; if we let it.


Perhaps, distance is a test. Maybe you try to see it that way. A test of love, perhaps. Or maybe, of trust. Or of everything some two have built together—or are building. Like the test of time. That cliché sounds too real now than ever, baby! *Smiley*

Oh why is it, I wondered, that the trust proximity builds, distance does try? And if we can rest on the trust of earlier years, we will feel safe to trust. They say trust is not a gift; it is earned. And suspicion and curiosities are the cankerworm of love, of togetherness, of trust.

It is true distance—time, time itself—makes us seem changed at times. No, not changed—they try our stands, our reasoning, our values—immensely, baby. Ah, these are the times that try men’s souls, baby girl—every one of us! But not every one of us struggle hard and eventually don’t give in, baby. And not every lady has had or has men like these; perhaps like you have. So, please, praise us when we don’t give in and please welcome us home when we did and are damn, damn sorry. But we won’t anyway—because we also care about you, about us, our relationships. And we won’t anymore, too—because we were sorry, and deeply sorry.

True men only hope ladies would believe these words. And we also hope we can trust you, too—and perfectly trust you, not to play us.


And so I see, too, that the communications proximity had started must be consciously maintained all through distance. And that is if the wall of distance would not break down shelters of love some two have built. I see it is the power in communications; the strength in talk, in words.

Take a line from a poem I wrote you earlier in time, before this distance. And I said: “… distance is no real wall / where hearts that love don’t grow distant …” Please then, bear with me, accommodate me; don’t grow distant, let us not. This too shall pass—and someday soon, we will never have to say goodbye… just good night.

From distant places,
Your own KTO,
July 2014.


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