It was a warm summer afternoon when you told me we were over. For all the times I despised my lacking memory, this was one significant instant where it didn’t fail me, unfortunately as I recall ever so vividly that day we broke up.
Most would comment that a compelling remedy to a heart that is broken is to brood over the wrong things in your relationship rather than lament over what you have lost. And who am I to say that that is wrong? With the right person, it could possibly be the most fitting option but I doubt it would be for me.
Thus, I will choose to remember that you loved me, hopefully, as much as I had loved you.
I will fondly recall those late night walks along the boulevard; how we’d watch the waves collide with the shore, the sea a silent witness to the kisses we’d exchange. And I will hear you in John Mayer’s voice, and see you in every Star Wars poster, reliving every second of your horrific yet equally humorous Chewbacca impression. I will remember how you’d hug me just tight enough till your scent would linger on my own skin, your sweet fragrance embedding itself unto my knitted sweaters, clothing articles which I would refuse to remove as it reminded me too much of you. I’d think of your sweaty palms, which I secretly hated to hold only to subconsciously lash out on myself for feeling so since what I truly hated more than the excessive excretions of your Eccrine gland, was not feeling your touch on my hand.
Because I never understood the line home is where the heart is, till I met you.
For the banal moments, of lying on unmade beds, playing Jenga on a Saturday night or even washing the dishes, and for those which imaginary fireworks took place, I will remember you; I will remember us and the fleeting ephemeral moments of utter and blinding rapture that we shared. I am grateful for our beautiful middle and regardless of its tragic eventuality, you are a chapter worth reading in my life’s manuscript.
I will keep you in my afterthoughts, and there I will store our memoir for safekeeping until the day that I can look back with absolute certainty that should you ask me back, I could walk away because I loved you, I truly did but this is where we end, and this is likewise where we both shall begin.
Amongst the flush of memories, both the good, and the otherwise bad, one moment stands above the rest – that instant you told me you loved me. And that is what I choose to remember you by.