“Have you ever had your heart broken?”  I ask.  “I suppose you have…everyone has.”  I answer myself.

“It’s been so long, I don’t remember,” she says.

“Well I have, recently, and it hurts.”

“How long’s it been?”

It’s been four months.  “That’s not that long,” she assures, as does everyone else.  It takes time.  They say the same thing about my hurt shoulder and my skinned knee.  I used to have to excuse myself from the table and go clean up what was oozing from the bandage in the middle of my leg so I guess there’s been improvement.  I used to have to do the same thing for my heart.  After everyone’s voices receded and the montage in my head grew louder I would go into the bathroom and try to reason with myself.  As wonderful of a relationship as we’d had and as much as I wished he was here with me now, it was over.

The most beautiful break up I’ve ever been in.  He told me how wonderful I was and I saw that he was right.  We talked for hours and ended up back at my place,  and fell asleep on my sofa.  But at some point, he left.  And he never came back.  And to see those words stings just a little.  The dissolving of something so intricate and seemingly well established.  Gone.  in an instant.  (Give or take 5 hours in my case, and a few more hours on the phone a few days later).    We tried to figure out how to save it, but couldn’t.

And now, well, I am coming to see that I didn’t really want it.  It was definitely so much better than what I had, but not enough – I wanted more.  I was reaching for more, and grabbing it and thus needing to let go of what I had to stretch enough to reach it.  You can’t have both.  You can’t stay and go..  you can’t be stuck and grow.