The words didn't just mean "it’s been a long time." They meant: I missed your sister’s wedding. I wasn’t there when your father passed. I didn't see you learn how to be okay without me.
The air in the cafe was thick with the scent of roasted beans and something much older—expectation. I checked my watch for the third time in five minutes. Across the table, the chair remained empty, a silent witness to the decade that had slipped through our fingers. tanto_tiempo
I nodded, unable to find my voice. The "so much time" wasn't just a measurement of days; it was a physical weight sitting on the table between our coffee cups, invisible and heavy as lead. We weren't just two people meeting for a drink; we were two strangers trying to find the pieces of ourselves we had left in each other's pockets ten years ago. "Tanto tiempo," I finally agreed. "Where do we even start?" The words didn't just mean "it’s been a long time
Since "Tanto Tiempo" translates to "Long Time" or "So Much Time" in Spanish, this piece explores the weight of silence and the space between two people who haven't spoken in years. The air in the cafe was thick with