No Promises

It was one lucky afternoon that we found each other on the dance floor, and one simple question that ensured we would be at dinner a couple of days later. Strange how two people come to meet on a ship, and the benefits this enclosed space affords. Meeting someone on the ship means not being able to run away from them, seeing them around day and night, and having in theory 24 hours of every day to get to know them. So in theory to make friends on a ship you need to be good at time management.

Problem with this is, that at some point no matter how well you managed your time, it will run out. 24 hours or even a month can’t last forever but I wish it would. I wish I could repeat the moments where I walk around the ship to deliver a letter, or the smile across the table when you realize you were late again, those moments that no matter what I do will come to an end.

A song by Shane Ward plays in my head as I silently remember that our time is running out. No Promises the song is titled, and it brings me back to the the first letter we ever exchanged. “No promises, our time is short” the letter said. So each day we add memories, we add moments, we add conversations, and grow a stack of letters that will serve as a reminder that once we existed for each other. Those will mean that our time together was short but extraordinary.

For now, my time isn’t quite over, so I will bask in the light until it starts to flicker. I will write on the paper until I run out of space, I will laugh until I can no longer make a sound, and I will smile until my face hurts. What are you to do when you say no promises? Keep the promises that you can make. I promise to make you laugh, I promise to make you smile, I promise to make you happy, I promise to listen to you, to tease you, to bother you, to make your time left worthwhile and meaningful.

We will run and tour through Barcelona. Dine through Gibraltar, and write to each other in postcards from Sicily, Monaco, and Portugal as we continue on our adventure and towards the end when you ask me not to cry, my answer will be No Promises.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s