I'm happy for you

I was with your friends the other day. It’s a small city and we have mutual friends I guess.

They told me of how they had just visited you in New York, and how you live there now, doing your masters like you always wanted to. And I’m happy for you.

I’m happy for you.

But I wonder… Do you ever taste a meal at one of those fancy New York Italian restaurants and think of how I’d love it? Do you ever walk down the neighbourhood streets of the big city and think of what it would be like if I was there, walking beside you? Do you ever hear a joke on TV, or watch a movie that makes you think, “man, she’d love this”?

Because, although I’m scared to admit it, I do. I think of your face every time I leave the house when I wonder if I’ll run into you. I let my thoughts roam when I think of what your advice for my writing would be. I consider if you’d like me now, if you’d appreciate the choices I’ve made and get along with the strong woman I’ve become.

It’s been a while, longer than I care to admit, and I still think of you everyday.

Sometimes I get angry with myself. Frustrated. Internally yelling at myself to stop thinking of what you may be doing, to move on already. I know this part of me only wants the best for me, but it’s a pretty harsh way of showing it.

But then there’s the aligned part of me. The part that recognizes that the wondering thoughts come from the long, deep love we shared. That those thoughts and memories can’t just be removed from my mind because a frustrated version of myself wants them to be.

This is the part that gives myself grace, that gives you grace, that recognizes that we were just young and in love. This is the part that I aim to be more often than not, and this is the part that truly wishes for your happiness, no matter what hurt and pain I may feel from not being a part of it.

Artist’s Statement

I found this one in my notebook, I had written it almost a year ago. I reread it and wondered who got access to my notebook and wrote it. Turns out it was me! I loved it. It’s raw, it’s vulnerable, and it’s true. It’s scary to hit Publish on this one, but isn’t there connection and growth in vulnerability?