Let Me Explain

I can't believe how many years it's been since I've seen you.
And yet, you still have that same sad look in your eye, that look that says

"Don't Go. Don't do this."

But I explain to you now as I explained to you then that
I needed to leave.
I needed to find myself.
I needed to...go.

I explained it all, but I could tell you didn't believe me. You nodded your head and placed a finger to my lips to quiet me.

I didn't explain to you then but I explain to your now that I loved another.
He was there for me, a shoulder to lean on, when you had no time. And although you worked hard and took care of our family, he was there for me, even if it was to share a simple glass of wine.

Yes it's been many years, so many years filled with so many tears, far too many to count.

But I ask you again now, like I asked you then to not forget, but to simply forgive.

So I can go on with my life.


Afterword

Okay. I don't know what that was. It's not a poem, because you know the Oldgirl is not poetic AT ALL. It don't even flow right. And it's not quite prose. Not sure what it is. Humph.

But it is on my mind.

So let me explain.

I wrote this in about 2 minutes time, for my women's journal writing group.

The writing prompt was: Start with "I can't believe how many years it's been since..."

Is this story about me?

Nope. That story above looks to be about a married woman who left her husband for another man. I never did that. I've never been a wine person, either (well, Boones Farm - but no glass, straight out the bottle).

And I am known for being VERY evasive and terribly passive aggressive. I don't sit around trying to explain NOTHING to nobody. If I gotta explain myself, I run for the hills. (A bad habit, I know).

Not autobiographical.

Or is it?

I don't know.

It stems from me walking through a Wal-Mart one afternoon last year, minding my own business. I have no idea what I was shopping for. I don't think I even had a buggy.

When in through the front door, past the kindly greeter, walks in a man whose heart I broke many years ago.

We made eye contact.

I ducked into the greeting card section. Got a crook in my neck from turning too fast and too hard. I pretended I was reading greeting cards. Did that for about 5 minutes and then got the HECK out of dodge. I made a mental note to make sure I not frequent THAT particular Wal-Mart ever again. (Well, I've been there a couple of times since. You know how I am about trying to get over my fears.)

What would I have said to him if he walked up to me?

Hmm... I don't know. The sound of my heart beating hard in my chest would've drowned out all conversation.

But over the years, when I've gone through ish with men, I wonder if it's punishment for breaking that dude's heart.

I remember laying in bed in the dark with the ex-husband once, and him whispering...

"You still think about him, don't you?"

Hmm... I said the answer that was appropriate at the time.

I don't know what that quick story means. There's a story all up in there, though.

I'm not going to worry myself about it.

Therefore-

I will go on with my life.