visiting a grave

I took long walk today at around 8 pm. I decided that it was so nice out and I haven't had a solitary walk in a while.

I breathed the city in as I haven't in months. Too bad about the drunk guy in the red shirt that said, "Hey, do you like to give massages?" Grrr...Shut the fuck up. I guess I could forgive him, hanging out with old friends who probably don't even remember him in the morning.

But the point of this story is that I took a walk down a familiar path. One that I haven't walked with intent since 2003? 2004?

What is it that made me dream of his name last night, on a sheet of paper that said, "NAME OF BOYRFRIEND:". I wrote his name down and obscured it with circular motions of my pen. He's not my boyfriend anymore. Lately, too, I've been wondering whether I'll see him on these streets.

I finally came to the old house I spent so much time in, looking happily tired and lived in, retaining cigarette and pot smoke. (I hate the smell of pot, grown stale in a room!) Someone else lives in that room now, though I can still feel the wooden floors under my feet and still have trouble lifting that window. My key probably still opens that front door, as I doubt they even bother to change the locks. I looked up at the porch were we danced the tango on a winter night and on a fresh spring day. Barbecues on the hibachi and forgotten brown bottles on the floor boards.

I wondered why I've thought of him lately. Maybe there's something happening in his life...maybe he's getting married. But it's not because I miss him, it's not for some longing. But I guess it's good to remember that it was good and real and true. So good that I'm still careful not to get carried away this time, as I recognize how much that hurt changed me and prevents me from free falling, from completely feeling the openness that comes with the world in full sun.

I once told a friend that I feel like there will always be a connection between us. So I wonder if there's something big happening now. I imagined myself bumping into him at this house.

"Hey! Good to see you", in an awkward way that tells nothing of the past.
"Hey, how are you?"
"Good. I'm so happy now and I love him. I love him so much, sometimes I think I love him more than I ever loved you. Or maybe it's just different this time."

For fear of looking like some crazy girl to the guys on the porch, I only walked by twice and headed home, picturing that room, where there was romance in abundance and a constant premonition, or maybe wonder, about whether it would last.

I wondered if this visit was a sign of a goodbye. A real and permanent goodbye and forward motion whose momentum will take me where I've never dreamed.

I tried to glimpse it one more time and thought, "Goodbye. That's the last time." I can still see the world out those windows now, but at the same time, I can imagine a future that's far, far away from it; where I'll simply remember that in that house, I stood when I was young, and was smiled at, touched, and loved by dark eyes.

Goodbye. It's done, it's gone. I think I'm falling again and not so worried anymore. I'm beginning to picture the future once more and what age looks like on this second take. I think I might just laugh everyday... laugh, a lot more than cry.