You Left But I Still Have Sand In My Shoes

I found out the other day that you left. It was sort-of by accident. Or maybe it wasn’t. I was wondering about you, and decided to use our modern-day devices to find out what I could. It’s scary how much we rely on these things to tell us what we should already know. And as I was unashamedly peering into your life, I came across what seemed to be a friend welcoming you back. They were welcoming you back to a place that isn’t here. So I guess you left, but I still have sand in my shoes.

Fleeting feelings don’t count for much and it would be mistaken to say it was anything else. But sometimes it’s the most short-lived experiences that leave the deepest impressions; the hardest imprints in a season’s memory. You’ll never know the mark you made and it’s probably best this way. But a part of me felt strange that you were being welcomed back elsewhere. It was not surprise, but sadness. I realized that you left but I still have sand in my shoes.

I don’t know why I tell myself that I am good at goodbyes. Maybe it’s because I’m always leaving. And I guess we never really said goodbye which always left hope lingering. A hope that is not righteous or virtuous or true; an immoral hope, but a hope nonetheless. And even when I saw that you were likely back in a place that you knew, I was still hoping that maybe my eyes had deceived me, or that the language was ambiguous and that I had misunderstood. Because it would mean that you left but I still have sand in my shoes.

I began to think of things as being better when you were here; which we tend to do when we are nostalgic. And then I felt like a mad woman because it dawned on me that I have no right to be nostalgic for you. As it stands, you are a mere paragraph in my life’s book, as I am in yours. But if I were to be writing that book now, I’d put my heart’s effort into your part. Because I am that crazy; I am that hopelessly crazy girl that you met on a midsummer night. And now I know you left, but I still have sand in my shoes.

I doubt you think of me as much as I think of you. And it makes me feel pathetic; I am. But I needed you when you were here and I’ll always be grateful for that. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping you had found a way to stay. Because even though our fleeting moments were long gone before you were, I was still hoping for yet another. Perhaps a reincarnation of that midsummer night when we met, but on a much cooler day. I understand that you left but I still have sand in my shoes.

Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime in the future. That would be nice; it’s where my heart and mind went to, when I found out that you were being welcomed back to that place that isn’t here. Or maybe I’ll forget you soon. But I do know that when I come across certain places and things, I’ll think of you. And I know that when I’m out and about, at least for a while, I’ll still be wretchedly looking for you; hoping to see you again. You left and you were always going to, but I still have sand in my shoes. And I’m not ready to dust it off just yet. TC mark

image – -Ebelien-

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