They talk about the Rapture; I do not believe it.

My Baby (Got Nothing At All) - Japanese Breakfast

I miss Misty May on days like these. The air is not so heavy with rain and cloudy heat. There's a breeze in the air, like Yepe says, as she sits with me in an old, red rickshaw on our way to my new apartment. I remember Misty May because he is, to me, perhaps the only stable thing when seasons change. I miss the show-and-tells, the freshman rigor and apprehension, and the movies—the terribly good movies. I still remember him as a 12-year-old—how much we’ve grown since then! So quietly, so naturally.

I find that Delhi has the capacity to be kinder, but that I must seek it. So, I have not yet argued against plans being made and no longer reject the prospect of another year here—not as vehemently, anyway. I attend Bible studies like a little devilish imposter, but I have faith in their amens and hallelujahs. I should say, I have faith in people’s faith, but I do not know that I have some of my own. They talk about the Rapture; I do not believe it.

I believe instead in the cup of tea that Salu made for us on Sunday, like she believed that the tea would bloom in hot water and that the milk would be creamy enough. I believe in my brother and his capacity for kindness, even though he forgets himself often. I believe my parents might die before me—I do not dwell much on the ruminations of death. But I believe in all the deaths that Rin has died and the phoenix that she is as she takes on her life. I believe that my friends love me enough to know something good about me.

I might never recover my faith and restore it to what it was—I do not wish to. Just as I would not desire the decay of Misty May’s sophomore thrill for the selfish return of the perished comfort from watching movies together on a cool, slow Sunday. We’ve grown unknowingly, and when the growing pains ceased, I cannot know. Yet, here I am, softer because of the loss, stretched beyond what I thought to be possible and still breathing. This breath of life is so awfully mine and now, I must shrug the discomfort and take care of it.