I remember thinking how good you looked. Every time I looked at you I wanted you and I wanted you to want me. 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.