The third round

They say home is where the heart is

They say home is made of love and dreams

They say it’s always good to be back home

Yes. What they said is true. It felt truer than true when you greeted me with a bouquet of my favorite roses, wine, and your signature home-cooking dish. You have been binge watching romance movies was my very first guess as you cast that alluring smile on your face.

“It’s our day, love”

Yes. I remembered that clearly, love. 3^rd of March, Our 3^rd Anniversary, 9 years ago.

As much as I remembered clearly when her name flashed on your screen, spoiled you with her caring sweet words, right before you kissed me goodnight. Our very last kiss of goodnight.

Since then, coming home have never been the same.

“Happy 3^rd Anniversary, honey!”

It’s that time of the year again.

Another 3^rd round, another celebration, sweet surprises, gifts, home-cooking dish, glasses of wine, kisses, and another remembrance of eternal pain.

It’s the same old routine, same old celebration. But I like it like that.Or can I say, I insisted to be like that. It must be.

Coming home on the 3^rd of March for me is fate, not choice.

Coming home on the 3^rd of March for me is never without plan.

Coming home on the 3^rd of March for me is the only time to bury the pain.

The pain that had left a huge hole in my heart, nine years ago.

The infinite pain that I’m unable to eliminate, even after the third man to date.

The third date that have made it to the third round.

The third date that is now standing tall right before my eyes.

The third date that I am going to bury.

Tonight, after his kiss of goodnight.

It’s about time to eliminate the pain along with everything that reminded me of it.

And after that, it is about time to meet the 4^th

And coming home again on the 3^rd of March, 3 years later.

It’s always good to be back home, where everything is buried.