She was so very in love with you.
She thought you hung the moon.
She thought you loved her to the stars and the moon and back.
And you did.
Oh, how you did.
Then, one day, she’d let fear outweigh her love and leave you.
You’d be speechless. Lost. Broken.
Eventually, however, you’d move on. And she loved you enough to only want the smile to return on your face. So, she’d love you from afar and bask in the knowledge that you were happy.
Not with her, but that’s okay.
Sometimes love stories are short stories, but that doesn’t mean there’s any less passion or kindness or love in those pages.
I’m the woman who broke the fairy tale too soon to know the ending.
These days, I think of you.
I think of your face in the audience when I graduated college but had a panic attack and didn’t walk across the stage. I think of how you held my hand that night in the ER, telling me it was alright.
When I see a penguin, I think of you.
When I see a lobster, I think of you.
Since those days long ago, I will graduate again this December, though COVID will keep me from walking again.
I remember those days long ago, with the top down and doors off, wind flying all around us, and so I bought a Jeep.
I remember building my first piece of furniture in the garage with you at my side, so I refinished a bookcase.
Please know you taught me how to love.
You taught me how to build.
You taught me how to hold my own hand.
You taught me how to stand alone.
Thank you for the love you gave me all those days ago. It’s taught me everything. I hope you’re proud of the foundation you helped me lay and the independence you taught me.
The Woman You Made Me
PS: I still do things accidentally on purpose.