Love is…
He told me he loved me on a down right cold November night. He said he’d fallen in love with me when the moon changed, but his feelings for me hadn’t. I didn’t understand how or why, I just listened to the words and assumed he was mistaken.
It was only months later that I realized I felt the same way for him. When I told him, he seemed confused. “But how?” he kept repeating. I couldn’t answer that question. I knew I loved him, and I’d almost accepted that he loved me. Of course I had that doubt in the back of my mind that assured me we would eventually part ways. We would eventually be long distance friends, and then… nothing.
Time heals all wounds, but it also has a way of completely erasing. Who knows what we’ve forgotten, or what we will eventually forget. If we both lose track of the truth, then it’s almost as if it never happened. We have our memories, but even those are fleeting. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe being guarded and afraid is as useless as a yellow traffic light.
Here it is. My new found apreciation for love and life and the meaninglessness of it all:
Under the serene glow of that very same moon, I vow that I will never again hesitate to jump into the deep end.
