You once told me that you wanted to enjoy every day without having to constantly think about complicated matters.
That’s why I turned your routine into our little night tradition.
In my glass there was only my fruit juice bitter favorite.
I was taking it with you so you never felt like you were doing something alone.
Forgive me for having insisted so much on maintaining our little habit.
Maybe one day you’d understand why it meant so much to me.
I just wanted you to enjoy a long, quiet life.”
I held the letter in my hands for a moment.
For thirty-five years he had thought that Victor simply had a strange custom that he never wanted to explain.
Now I understood that for him that little tradition meant much more.
It was a way to share with me a special moment every night.
Since then, when nine o’clock, I sometimes put two glasses back on the table.
One contains my usual preparation.
The other, the bitter fruit juice that Victor enjoyed so much.
I raise my glass to the empty chair and say,
“A glass for another day and for the thirty-five years we shared.
