I have always felt just a little bit better after reading a book or writing a thought down. I feel more settled, less stressed, and way more focused.
Then life steps in. Again. The projects and lists and guilt and forgotten dreams. There they all are, as if somehow by sitting too long, I clear the way to see to the back closet of my mind. And I know that I can be busy to avoid them. I’ve read that chapter, analyzed it, talked about it, and still, there it is. Tiny passageways each leading off of the main corridor from my heart.
Like tonight. Watching a movie. It all came back to me in a split second. Staring into his eyes over his sister’s head, laughing with her as we stepped onto the stage at summer camp. Seeing him in the audience, our eyes locked, and I knew in that moment that he loved me. It shines a light in my heart even so many years later. And that feeling. Oh gosh, that feeling of euphoria, the bright moon, crisp air, and the HOPE – that one day all things would be right, that we would end up together, that our kids would come to this very camp with their dreams and their youth. And it’s funny to me how in some random moment, my heart beats exactly the same as that day so very long ago. It beats to the rhythm of that life that is long gone, the dreams that will never be, and it mourns anew.
The same heart that longs for more and dreams up gigantic propositions and crazy notions of a business all my own, that very same one sits in quiet sadness over the ache of a lost love, a lifetime of youth now long gone, and it beats on alone.
Now that’s a word I don’t use to describe myself. Alone. Technically I’m not, but when it comes to this endless responsibility of parenting, my heart drops. I have this feeling that even with all of the organizing, designing, and ceaseless speaking – I’m not even sure that I’ll be satisfied whatever the outcome may be.
And that’s where I am right now. Moving like a bulldozer towards some illusive self-made goal while mourning and rejoicing over everything else. Confuddled. Saying goodbye to my precious baby girl, agonizing over the decisions I’ve made, wanting more time and yet excited for what’s in store. I always say that the funny thing about me is that I initiate so much change yet really just long for none of it.
And tonight I let the thought cross my mind that there may never come a time when I love again or that I am loved. It’s a truth I acknowledge. And I have to be ok with that. I am ok with that, in fact, because I know that I was once loved. Loved with poetry, songs, letters, and a thousand moments. He may not be mine now, but I am forever indebted to him.
So here’s to the memories that I have yet to make and the ones I hold dear to my heart.