Day 324 - Changing of the Guard

Dear N,

I don't really think about you in the same way anymore, with that hurt that makes it hard to breathe.

The other night I dreamed about you, but it was so neutral, so inconsequential I can't even recall the dream now.

I wonder how you're doing, how the pandemic has affected your work, your family, your life.

Sometimes, I go to your wife's social media page to see what your family is up to. I know. It's stalkerish. But they are public posts. (shoulder shrug) I see these glimpses into your life and it's like pricking myself with a pin: does it still hurt? And you know what? It really doesn't anymore.

I don't know if that's because sometimes other traumas can overwhelm the old ones, but I do think I've finally found some peace in that old story of us.

I also don't think I'll ever get married again. I'm barely surviving the rest of parenting as a result of the first marriage. I just can't imagine ever, ever, ever, ever feeling safe enough to honestly dare another attempt.

Plus, I'm more okay with being by myself, sleeping alone, watching a lot of Amazon Prime alone, eating alone, exploring alone. It's not as alone as it once felt, like being skinned and suspended in space with every nerve ending on fire, but nothing, nothing, nothing touching.

Now I am mesmerized by the birdsong outside my window, the brilliant bursts of green buds unfurling on the trees, the scent of lavender on my doorstep, the rhythmic rush of traffic that sounds not unlike waves on a seashore. 

My life isn't consumed by the beauty or the love and romance that I long fantasized after. But missing you doesn't feel like something is missing anymore. And that's good enough.