Friday, August 12, 2005

Bygones

She is his wife. He loves her. He does not love me. We did not make each other happy... toward the end, anyway.

He found the woman of his dreams... or the woman of his awakening. I was never in the running for that particular distinction. It was no one's fault. People fall in and out of love every day. Do we really think we're THAT special? That we're the only one a particular person could love?

For the past week or so, my mind has been occupied with the elusive concept of love. Or the various stages thereof. Remember how you felt when you first met someone and the sparks started flying? Those moths beating around that bonfire in your belly? Then later, the sheer and utter contentment of just lying in his arms, whispering shit you'd be too embarrassed to say out loud? Yeah, I remember that, too.

But I also distinctly recall all the late nights waiting up for him to come home. Dinner, that I'd spent time trying to make special, a dried out husk in the oven. Eyes puffy from crying out of indignation that another person would take me for granted. Heart swollen with rage. Throat hoarse from a combination of smoking too much and screaming.

When we broke up it was a 'good thing' (not to mimic Martha). Sad thing is, I didn't see that until much later. This man... well, he made me crazy happy in a way I hadn't been in years. And as we all know, whatever heights you can attain, the depths plumbed are equal in mileage. But it's in those depths you wallow that you can figure out your common denominator. It's climbing out that helps you realize your strengths. It's being level again that affords you the power to forgive.

That said (or spewed), I have nothing in my past to hold me back anymore. Didn't before either. I just didn't know that. "HE" is out there... whoever he is. I'm not in a rush to find him. It'll happen when it happens. And someday...

My eyes will be puffy... from a long night's sleep in his arms.
My heart will be swollen... with a wide range of wonderful emotion.
My throat will be hoarse... from saying 'I love you' over and over and over...

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