[about the author]
i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish,
i work crossword puzzles in ink.
i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie
izzard. can't decide, really.
i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really
i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.
i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.
i never play dumb. never.
i am way too hard on myself.
i am a change agent.
i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.
i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.
i am militantly pro-choice.
i am pro-adoption.
i know a little bit about alot of things.
i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.
i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it.
i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.
i have been known to hold a grudge.
i have hips.
i am not my sister.
i am lousy at forgiving myself.
i am an indoor kind of gal.
i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.
i am 32 flavors. and then some.
full of grace
you don’t know her.
you’ve never seen her.
you never will, you're sure.
you know her name. and the other things he tells you about her.
and that’s more than enough.
more than enough to know.
yes, you had dreams. but you secreted them away a long time ago. you turned him into a ghost. the ghost of “what might have been.” occasionally skirting the edges of your life, but never really present. never really in the forefront of your mind. you moved forward with your life. you believed, really believed, it was all ancient history.
but every once in a while, those echoes of memories would come thundering back, the sound of them drowning out the voice of reason that moved you forward and chided you that the past is just the past.
when you hear part of that song.
or see the cover of that book.
or someone asks if you ever saw that movie.
and it all floods back.
like it was yesterday.
like you were still in love with him.
even though you know, you’ve told yourself a million times, that you’ve moved well past all of that.
but, hearing the joy she brings him, hearing the way he loves her...being caught off guard by the sharp intake of breath that was your response...it’s enough to force you to ask yourself if shoving those thoughts of him into a dark corner where they’re out of sight is really the same as moving past them.
before this, maybe you always had hope. or at least, if you didn’t dare to hope, you could always entertain yourself with wondering. it's a fine line between wondering and hoping, but a line nonetheless.
did he think of you?
did he wonder “what if” or “if only?”
did he get caught off guard in the middle of a crowd every once in a while, dazed by the sudden feeling of missing you. a feeling that came out of nowhere. with no apparent reason.
in the occasional quiet moment, did he ever find your name repeating again and again in his head?
but now, hearing the happiness in his life. hearing that he has finally found the things you had secretly hoped he might find with you...meaning. purpose. serenity. the surrender of all-consuming love. happiness.
whatever wondering or missing he might have done over the years hasn’t been enough to change things. hasn’t been a strong enough pull to bring him back around. he let go of you years ago.
and so, it is time. time for you, too, to stop wondering. to let go forever of the timeworn remnants of possibility that you carried in your pocket for all these years.
and you realize as you take a deep breath and let yourself think about him one last time, that you’re happy for him. happy for him in a way that only someone who has loved him for a very long time could be.
[ed. note: i really don't want this site to turn into a one-trick pony, and i note that, of late, i've been doing quite a bit of swoony romantical writing. it's just a phase. something in the alignment of the planets. i just have a lot of romantical-related stuff going on right now. trust me. it'll pass. it always does. not that i'm bitter about that. anyway, i'll make with the funny again soon, okay kids?]
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