Is it possible to have more than one love of your life?
Could it be that you are my second? Right after your papa?
Your beautiful almond oiled skin.
Your curled lashes.
The way you come running to me when the door opens.
How bizarre would it be to see you hold the hand of your fiancé?
Will I be jealous or wise, like your grandma?
What burning emotions will I feel when you chose her opinion over mine?
Her defence over mine?
When your eyes dance at her childish nature and girlish smiles.
Your grandma is really something.
Your papa did all of the above and she never once gave anything away.
Perhaps she is wise. Or perhaps she is concealing.
But this I know.
I want to be wise for you too.
And for your woman too.
Wise to love you and let you go.
Wise to let you fall and trust that the universe will pick you up, when I’m not the right person for the job.
Wise to adore and love the woman you adore and love.
This I will try.