And Now, There Is No Love


Remember that one time when things felt different? Like something had changed in the air and we had breathed it in and in breathing it in we became content and calm and not angry anymore?

It was the little things that were different but really you and I both knew they were big things. Huge things. Like the fact that we kissed in the morning instead of just giving each other quick hugs before dashing off into the personal busyness of our lives. Or how we sat together and read the paper on Sunday morning and drank cheap coffee and were perfectly okay with the quietness between us. Those things were all different and new – and it’s strange, but it made us fall in love again.

Remember how we skipped work in the middle of the week to spend the day with each other? We did it because that’s what people who are in love do sometimes and for that day we were in love. We packed sandwiches and drove somewhere far away and pretended that we were in a place new and interesting. It was exciting because it was probably the most spontaneous thing we had done in a long time. Or maybe ever.

During our time together on our secret rendezvous, we sat close and poured everything out until we had nothing left to pour. You made me laugh and laugh and laugh and it made my heart grow big. Like literally I could feel my heart growing bigger and it made me love you even more. Things were different and better and for that moment we were happy.

When we grew tired of talking, we sat closed and said nothing, letting the silence envelop us in a way that was comforting but not stifling. In those moments, we forgot about everything that had weighed us both down for so long and we just let ourselves be content.

During those silences, thoughts crossed my mind. I thought about me and you together and us in the future. I thought about us buying a little fixer upper in that quirky little neighborhood we both loved. I thought about us hosting cute little get-togethers in our little fixer upper. I dreamt of us making babies and having those babies and raising those babies in our cute little fixer upper. And thinking about all that didn’t scare me. For once, it didn’t scare me and I was okay with loving you.

I remember thinking how good you looked. Every time I looked at you I wanted you and I wanted you to want me. I had never felt safer than I did at that moment when our bodies were entwined with each other. We were less like puzzle pieces fit snug together and more like a ball of tangled yarn with no beginning and no end and messy and complicated and frustrating but still good. Still really good.

Being apart was surprisingly difficult the days following. I remember desperately looking forward to seeing you at the end of each day – I missed you – and it felt good to hug you and I know it felt good for you to hug me too. You said that you loved me. I said the same. And we meant it.

But then the week started to come to a close like all weeks do and we began to notice that whatever that was in the air that had brought us together was now starting to fade. We took in deep breaths and desperately tried to hold onto that magical air – the air that had affected our lives in such a way that made everything seem too perfect, for too short a time. But that air escaped our grasp and quietly removed itself, refusing to tell us whether it would return or not.

With it’s gradual departure, we both began to feel that sense of dread coming back. No matter how hard we tried to ignore it, we couldn’t and then that dread settled in and got comfortable and mocked us as if to say ‘Hah! You thought that was going to be your forever?’

With it’s parting things began to change back and soon you became slightly more angry and slightly more sad and I became slightly more frustrated and slightly more hopeless and we both grew tired again.  So we fell back into our old habits and we started filling our evenings with things we needed to do to avoid the realization that that was gone.

We think about that period often. When we were happy for that moment. When things made sense and it wasn’t difficult to understand why you and I found each other out of all the people. But now that time is over, and those moments  are just memories and today we just remember it as that time before things went so terribly wrong.

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