The pain now is part of the happiness then

We woke early, after a late and somewhat blurry evening, annoyed that we hadn’t closed the drapes, the relentless sun beating in. Agreeing on breakfast, we untangled our limbs, showered, brushed our teeth, all in silence so that our heads would not fall off. You opened the windows so that the ocean air could blow through, and we both felt better.

I sat in front of the mirror, braiding my hair and you came up behind me, pushing my hands away so that you could finish the task and I held my breath, watching you. You bit your tongue as you concentrated on folding the strands of my wet hair, one over the other, and I thought my heart might break because in that tiny moment I felt the fear of what it might be like to be without you. We hadn’t said those words to one another yet, and I pressed my lips together tightly feeling that they might fall, involuntarily, from my mouth.

Years later, having left you, and living a different life, I still think of that morning and how accessible my soul was. I miss that girl who eventually told you she loved you and survived when you didn’t return the sentiment, collapsing first under the weight of your snub and then emerging sturdier, more cautious. While I’m glad for my strength and the wisdom that comes along with living past being broken in two, I mourn the loss of my ability to embrace the possibilities with such fearless abandon, regardless of outcome and what might happen to my heart.