I’ve gotten myself a bit behind. I tried to move to a new location, one without memories. My abysmal attempt to leave, quietly but with firm determination, has failed. It’s as if I’ve been sent to Windglum along with all the growling natives, but it wouldn’t dampen my memories.
Your touch, that long sweet kiss of goodbye, a kiss that would send me reeling every time. I tried. I was trying to forget all of it, the long conversations, your clever sense of humor, the feel of just sitting by your side doing nothing. At night I found myself flailing about in our bed, wondering why you weren’t right beside me as always.
Life is not a Harlequin romance novel. It’s a comet streaking across the sky, only experienced by a special few who choose to look. I had that experience, seeing the wonder. It occurs infrequently, but it does exist.
I tried turning over a new leaf, finding someone else. I searched the sky every night after you left. I don’t think I’ll ever see or feel the stars explode again, as I did when we watched them, together as one.