A Monday. Last night, I did not sleep well, or much. I contemplated love, happiness, suffering and death. I thought about my dear aunt who passed away in 2020 after a long fought battle with cancer. I thought about how I didn’t realize, or believe, that she in fact was dying. She was such a good soul. Helpful, bringing joy, food and ease into people’s lives. Sacrificing her own in the process. I thought about how sad and empty her house would now seem. How I would cry stepping foot onto the balcony where we spent so many nights, her giving me the latest gossip and me secretly gathering information about the boy that I liked that summer. She was a fighter for all, but her strength didn’t hold up her own.
I thought about that particular summer crush and how I wished we’d had a real chance at a teenage romance. How when he looked at me and talked to me and smiled at me, I’d feel like the most special and luckiest girl in the world. He was (and I bet is) a jokester, the sweetest, cheekiest sense of humor. I thought about how now he’s a married man. And what it’d be like to see and meet him again. Would he care to have a coffee with me? Something we had never done. We texted. And spoke on the streets. Once, we held hands. I thought about how I lost my cool with him via text once because he wouldn’t give me the time of day (that one day). I thought about how years later, we met at my aunt’s downstairs and he was just as sweet as ever. Honey. Sugar. Cotton candy. I thought about how his charisma had (and I bet has) the most addictive effect on me. Dangerously so. Now he’s married and all his magical powers of making a woman feel special are channeled for this one female. There are many women out there that feel a tad less glorious right now. I thought about how I always felt like he’d get me. From all those people in that town that I didn’t feel understood by, I knew he saw me. When I told him about my life. About myself. He’d take it for what it was and not view it through the heavily filtered town glasses. He was a breath of fresh air and I miss feeling that way about another human being. Everything feels dull. Mundane. I thought about how if we ever met again, if we ever fell for each other again, what it’d be like trying to figure out a life together. I thought about how he’d never leave his town and how I’d never be able to live in his town. And then the bubble burst.
And I cried. And I grieved. And I tried to release it all. It was too much. My tears were falling for a death that was real and a love that would never get a chance at becoming reality. I set myself a little freer. After all, the moon was full so I had to let things go.
And thank you, my Moon.