Your words are intoxicating. But wait. Before this goes somewhere it’s not supposed to go, we need a disclaimer of sorts. I’m not in love with you. You’re not in love with me. And even if, once upon a time, that possibility might have existed, it no longer does. So nobody’s dreaming of wedding vows here.
And yet. The things that you said, all those years ago in that past lifetime of possibilities, they are still as clear to me, as vivid and as captivating, as they were on the day that you said them, even after the memory of that day itself has faded with time. And the things that you say to me now, when you’re in one of your moods, they go straight to that place in my heart where I keep all my what-ifs and what-might-have-beens. We’re each other’s “the one that got away”, and if we’re honest, we can admit that the two foolish romantics that we are have found a certain appeal in that. There’s something fascinating about roads not taken.
And so last night, when you said what you said, when you asked me, “Do you remember what we promised when we met?” –— my sentimental heart lured me into another daydream walk down that untraveled path. And of course it was beautiful and breathtaking and sweet, daydreams always are. But eventually I had to go back to the messy reality of our choices, the one where the ever-after versions of our fictional selves are unrecognizable to the faces we see in the mirror every day. Because in real life, people say things, and people feel things, but in the end it’s what they do that counts. And what we did was we let each other go.