nathanael.ink

I like to drive through our old neighborhood
just to notice
that I need not be afraid of it.
I practice making space
for the pain of it
and I practice noticing
that I can bare it.
I find the pain validates
how I loved you
and love you still.

We watched them build that Starbucks
up the block
now I drive half an hour
to get back to it
because it is the only plan we made
that I can still keep.

I’ve forgotten your order now.
Something cinnamon?
Maybe almond?
This is the reason I stopped relying on memory.
I try now to trust experience
and
the pain of seeing our garden still in the yard.
I am glad to see it
and I am glad to miss you
and it doesn’t matter to me
if you miss me back.

I have this sneaking feeling
that sometimes
when you look at him
you see a glimpse of me
and when someone wonders
how they could make life more wonderful for you
I have this feeling
that you still hear me
asking it every day for what seemed like, at least, a lifetime or two.

I don’t believe the things you said about me
anymore
though I’m grateful for your eventual apology.

I wish things had gone differently
but if nothing else
I will maintain believing
that at some point
in some past
you did
in fact
love me.