I imagined walking in her screen, sweeping off all the dandelions that she blew in my face. And when we didn’t walk, we dreamed. We dreamed about the many beautiful names to be given to unborn children, like meander. Or dandelion. She even taught me the never knowing of the feeling of how Dutch perceive the word ladybug. She always found the English word to sound so much nicer.
I longed for hearing it again, never fully understanding, until I was actually with her. I would be in her house, with my hair all messy and her breath smelling of good whisky, walking to some books, touch them, open them, sell them. She would be in the bedroom, I would let her notice my presence, and instantly she would know where I slept that night. I even imagined not sleeping at all.