Saturday evening, on my way to the grocery store just before sundown, the sky was dark but gorgeous – a pretty steel-blue grey color, full of luscious, puffy clouds that teased of rain. Then that song came on the radio, and although I’ve been successful for the past year at changing the station and avoiding the thought, this time, for whatever reason, I couldn’t reach the dial.
All I could think of was that love that I lost. The love I shouldn’t have had in the first place. The love I knew better than to get myself into, simultaneously imprudent yet completely vital to my state of heart and mind at the time…the kind that I’ve only experienced twice in my life.
He loved this song. A song about lost love. And as it played, all I could see was his face when he told me how he’d waited so long for me to come along; and I could almost feel his hands holding my face, the way he used to each time he kissed me. When I was with him, I felt complete. Like every crummy thing I’d been through in my ridiculous life had led me to him, to this love. The love that never belonged to me in the first place.
I recently got an email from an old high school friend, talking about how he, like I, had spent so many years chasing something he knew nothing about, making all the same mistakes I had made, and it made me feel a little better…yet I’m spending my Saturday nights at the grocery store. Alone, still clueless as to where I am, and feeling like I don’t know that I could ever give my heart away again. (I’m not completely stupid, I know I will.)
It’s funny how ominous skies can be so charmingly beautiful; how the ugly truth in a relationship can wear such a charming disguise.
So, I heard the song again as I sat down at my desk this morning, and felt like writing. And in true fashion of always being super-tuned to me, as I typed that last sentence, he stopped in to say hello. *sigh*
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