Dear Tata,

We’ve never met,
But I recognize you.

I recognize you in the taste of bitter coffee,
I recognize you in the notes of a wistful song,
I recognize you in the brilliant warm hues the sun splatters the sky as it says its goodnight.

It’s never gone, though,
The sun,
It’s on the other side,
Waiting for its return,
Like you.

So I’ll draw a breath,
Beyond your last sigh.

I’ll fill my lungs,
With the scent of your perfume.

I’ll cup my hands over my ears,
To preserve the lingering hum of your vibrato under my skin.
I’ll borrow the shape of your smile,
When I pen a secret in my heart.

I’ll navigate the lines in my palms,
Like a map leading to pathways etched in yours,
And imagine how it feels,
To hold your hand in mine.

I’ll lay under the shade of your lashes,
And hunt for the exact shade of your iris.

I’ll paint it in mine,
And pray it grants me a glimpse through your eyes.

I’ll mistake your face for mine,
A double-take in the mirror.

I’ll tap the surface,
For a ripple to transfigure my features,
And I may see you again.

Your legacy is a living flame guarded in my chest,
A drawer of hidden shadows and familiar faces,
Glittering cobwebs of stories woven by your daydreams,
Gleaming in the gentle brightness of your essence.

The life you lived and the life you wished for.

My breath disturbs the coat of dust,
Sending every memory dancing into the light.

I run a finger through the film of your history,
And I see it vividly.

Beyond the glass of the frame,
That knowing twinkle in your eye,
A reflection of my own.

We’ve never met,
Tata,
But I recognize you.

I inherit you.