winter
The text message read that she was in town for the funeral of her boyfriend’s sister. She says that under happier circumstances, she would have called. Given our history, what happier circumstances could there be? She had increased the frequency of her correspondence as of late and like the white powder snow that dusted the ground, each small message made me feel a little colder. In no small part, it was because some part of me can’t help but stare into the smoldering ashes of what we shared many months ago, despite the scars that remain - the memory of the fire that burned there may never fade away.
Doubtless, however, it is largely due to how unjust it seems to me. Why should the woman who dealt me perhaps the most emotional violence I have yet to experience make so much effort to keep in touch, when the woman who set my mind alight with excitement make not a single effort to do the same? After the inevitable just-looking-for-a-friend admission, I of course assumed that she wanted to take things slowly - it would be foolish to assume that she did not at least have some yearning for me given the things that were done and said as we lay in each other’s arms that November night.
I was mistaken, however, and did not hear a single word from her lips for thirty long days, an entire month of the uncertainty that turns one stomach over because the answer is plainly obvious, yet unacceptable. Despite the emotion between us, I did not even know that I would be able to accept her back into my life should she bring herself before me. How could I ever look into winter-grey eyes the same way again, knowing that within them lay the capacity to leave me stranded like she did?
Such is the search for love. Obviously such pursuits would be easier if one’s past never made those efforts to keep in touch, as often all we want to do is forget how beautiful it could have been and continue moving forward in our lives. The proper, healthy attitude would be to take every experience for what they are worth, and cherish the joyful times each new paramour brings into one’s life despite what else they may leave. Healthy, indeed - but by no means comfortable. And I fear the painful what-else left behind in my heart is slowly turning it into a frozen mess.
No matter how tightly I pull on my scarf, I just can’t seem to get any warmer.
