One Last Good Day
My morning comics would be a lot better at distracting me from my troubles if one of them didn't involved two people, deeply in love, and their last day together, knowing full well that it was their last day together and very carefully preserving the illusion that it wasn't.
quelonzia and I did that on Sunday.
She sent me the email that ended with, "we need to talk".
She knew what was coming, and so did I.
But we both went along with the pretense.
We went to see The Sorcerer's Apprentice, and held hands through most of the movie.
Afterward, we had a nice lunch, and talked about pleasant inconsequentialities.
And then we went to her place, where I've never lived and never will, and sat down on her futon, the one she bought after I had to leave, and we Talked.
I don't know her motivations for sure. Maybe she was just trying to soften me up for the blow to come; that's what my mother thinks.
I know why I went along with the pretense, though, and I want to believe that it's the same for her:
I wanted One Last Good Day. I wanted one last set of memories of laughing with her. I wanted to remember her smile.
And I have those memories. And I will cherish them.
Because, dammit, what we had was real, and those years of happiness we had were true, and none of the bullshit that's buried them in the last few years can take that Reality and that Truth away from me. Not ever.
I love you, Fire of my Heart.
quelonzia and I did that on Sunday.
She sent me the email that ended with, "we need to talk".
She knew what was coming, and so did I.
But we both went along with the pretense.
We went to see The Sorcerer's Apprentice, and held hands through most of the movie.
Afterward, we had a nice lunch, and talked about pleasant inconsequentialities.
And then we went to her place, where I've never lived and never will, and sat down on her futon, the one she bought after I had to leave, and we Talked.
I don't know her motivations for sure. Maybe she was just trying to soften me up for the blow to come; that's what my mother thinks.
I know why I went along with the pretense, though, and I want to believe that it's the same for her:
I wanted One Last Good Day. I wanted one last set of memories of laughing with her. I wanted to remember her smile.
And I have those memories. And I will cherish them.
Because, dammit, what we had was real, and those years of happiness we had were true, and none of the bullshit that's buried them in the last few years can take that Reality and that Truth away from me. Not ever.
I love you, Fire of my Heart.