Last night, I had one of those very few perfect moments. The kind where you realize how wonderful the moment is when you’re in it—almost as if you are watching it happen from outside your body. It was perfect. Unexpected and perfect.
As some of you will remember, I started this blog when the first boy I loved (only loved two) left me and I needed a way to get out my feelings (love how life hasn’t changed in four years). As you may also remember, I truly loved him and was devastated when he left—swearing he would never return.
Last night, after much conversation of the past and present, the unthinkable happened. Nearly three in morning. Somehow the sky was a gleaming blue with dark grey clouds. The wind was nothing more than a calm, caressing breeze. The crickets and locus screaming their song to an almost MidWest volume. His porch light illuminating on one side of us, the street lamp lighting the other. He called me back to him as I left. He pulled me in and kissed me. We held each other in that perfect moment for probably half an hour. His familiar kisses which I missed for so long. His strong hands on my face. His eyes, finally open to me again.
It was a moment I used to dream of. One that I knew wouldn’t happen, as I don’t live in one of my fairy tales. A moment that was better than I imagined. A moment I knew I’d never, ever forget. In that moment, everything leading up made sense. I understood.
It was perfect. I drove home in tears of happiness. I fell asleep with a feeling of completion, as if the answers were finally coming. I had just as many questions and I could see hurdles to come, but they weren’t daunting. It felt so right and made so much sense. I couldn’t believe after all this time, it was really happening. To me!
Then I woke up this morning. Then we spoke this morning. ‘I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to be in a relationship. I don’t want to hurt you later.’ Nearly word for word what he-who-must-not-be-named said. Almost verbatim.
I guess I should feel lucky. The two men I’ve loved in my life are equally invested in not hurting me. And making sure that I know I’m not enough to spend a life with.
I always point out to my kids when they are mad at everyone, how everyone is always picking them, how everyone is out to get them—that they are the common denominator in these relationships. They need to look at themselves. Well, here, I’m the common denominator. The two loves of my life. Two very different men. The exact same response. Somehow, somewhere, for some reason, the problem is me.
Again, I’m hurting. I’m confused. I’m not enough.
I thankful for my perfect fairytale moment last night.
Unbelievably thankful. And I will hold it so dear.
If only I didn’t need to wake up to remember that isn’t how my life is written.
Black Coffee Tables
2 years ago