A Lesson in Goodbye

Living in beautiful farm country, we are surrounded by acres of gorgeous country side, serene views, peaceful mornings (no sounds of traffic ever!) and some of the most beautiful bike riding trails around.

However, we do have our share of heartache.

I’ve lost count of all the stray cats, most barely surviving on the scraps of food they find and the kindness of busy people who take the time to feed them.

Enter Little Mommy Cat, the feisty, but sweet girl who appeared on our doorstep a year+ ago with her brother, both emaciated. Like all of the other strays, we started feeding them. They would disappear for days then reappear intermittently, always looking thin but determined. Little Mommy got pregnant twice and after many fruitless searches, we were never able to locate her kittens. It broke my heart knowing they were out there without anyone to feed or protect them. And even though she seemed tough, there is only so much a small stray cat can do.

This summer she got pregnant a third time. This time I was determined to find her kittens no matter what. We followed her repeatedly across the road to our neighbors barn but she would never lead us to her hiding spot. Several evenings when our neighbors were not home, my daughters and I would search their barn. My older daughter would shine the flashlight from her iPhone while I searched every crack, crevice and hay stack, while my younger daughter, who is afraid of spiders (ha) would keep watch outside, warning us each time she saw an oncoming car. [And yes I do believe that might be considered breaking and entering but the door was unlocked, so..].

After 2 weeks of ardent searching, we finally found them. She had made a nest in the corner of the barn. Six, 2-week old kittens, hiding in plain sight on the floor of the barn where 75 + cows walked, ate and slept. It amazed me that one had not accidentally stepped on and killed one.

That evening we had 6 beautiful two week old kittens in our house. *heavy sigh*

My daughters were thrilled. KITTENS. However, I felt my usual range of emotions: exhausted, overwhelmed and yes, also KITTENS. I am human of course.

The next few weeks were fun. We layered the floor of our guest bathroom with soft blankets and cat toys. We kept them isolated with their mom so she had a quiet place to feed them and rest. Every evening we would let them explore and play.

If six kittens sounds like a lot, let me reassure you. IT IS A LOT. A lot of fun but also a lot of work.

______________________________________________

That was 4 weeks ago.

Today they are 6 weeks old and running and jumping and playing and so much cuteness. They are the most adorably sweet kittens I have ever seen. And I am not biased at all.

But unfortunately it’s not fair to keep six, ever-growing kittens locked up in a small guest bath all day long. They have outgrown the room and need space to exercise and play. They need forever homes.

I posted photos of them on social media (IG, FB and twitter]. I shared photos and videos with people I work with and I even stopped a man in the cat food aisle at Target to show him how cute they were.  I am not proud to admit that I did this, but he was sweet and actually considered taking one. Still,  I was unable to find homes for any of them. *even heavier sigh*

We always knew we could take them to a shelter but still, I was hopeful I would be able to find them homes myself.

From day one, I decided we would keep the mom because I knew she would be considered un-adoptable. No one ever wants a grown cat, especially when they can have a kitten instead.  So for 4 very long weeks we tried to make it work. Although she was friendly around people, she became very aggressive and defensive around our other pets, repeatedly attacking our older cat and dog. But 2 years of barely surviving had hardened her.

This week, I finally made the extremely difficult decision to give her up. 😦

The plan is to take her to the shelter [along with her kittens] and hope with every ounce of my heart that a kind person will see through her tough exterior and give her the loving home she deserves. Even as I write this, my heart is breaking. Because even though we’ve only had her in our home for a short time, I know her tough exterior is just that: a wall she created to protect herself out of the need to survive. I also know that underneath lies a beautifully sweet animal that is so deserving of kind and loving home.

And as horrible as I feel about giving her up, I know that is just how life is. Each one of us does what we can to make the world a better place. We help each other out. We volunteer our time. We rescue stray dogs and cats.  Even if it’s just one small gesture, we do what we can and hope someone else comes along and picks it up from where we left off.

Life is sort of like passing the baton. You pass the baton to the next person and hope they’ll keep it going. You hope they’ll pay it forward too and help the next person (or animal) who is in need.

____________________________________________

This weekend we are taking Little Mommy and her kittens to a wonderful shelter in Baltimore. Unfortunately, we have gone through this process before. We know the shelter staff are kind and that all of them will be safe. We’ve done all we can do and now it’s time to pass the baton.  All of the kittens are healthy and sweet.  We know that anyone who is lucky enough to adopt one will have a loving and affectionate friend for the rest of their life. And they are still young enough where they have a really good chance of being adopted.

So this weekend we’ll make the hour long drive to the shelter. My daughters and I will cry as we attempt to say goodbye to each one. Our hearts will break when it’s finally time to leave. The drive back home will seem even longer. I’ll stop along the way to get them ice cream in the hopes of cheering them up. But it won’t make a difference.  When we return home, we’ll all cry again because the house feels so empty. Each time we use the guest bathroom, we’ll remember how excited they would get each time we came home and opened the door, and we’ll feel sad all over again.

We hope that some kind person at the SPCA will watch over them until they find homes. And I hope that one kind stranger, an angel perhaps, will see Little Mommy cat and decide that she is the one they want and that she deserves a loving forever home, too.

mommy-cat-sept-20162

If you are reading this and think you would like to adopt either the mom or one of her kittens [or if you have any questions at all] please contact me ASAP. Thank you.

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First Date

She couldn’t stop thinking about him, so there was only one thing to do: go out with someone new, of course.
They agreed to meet at 7pm. She knew even before she met him that she wouldn’t like him. It wouldn’t matter how smart or charming or how handsome he was, she just knew. Simply because he wasn’t him.
She didn’t want to seem as though she was trying too hard, when in fact she didn’t care at all.

The problem with first dates is that every word you say, what drink you order (Scotch or a martini?), the buttons left unbuttoned on your blouse, even the way you look at him- every single thing takes on a particular, subliminal meaning.

But she was the type of girl who wore perfume and her favorite heels to run out for milk. It didn’t matter where she was going. That’s just who she was. So if she just happened to look a certain way, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

She arrived at 6:48 and ordered a glass of Bordeaux. At 7:02 he walked in. She looked up from her phone. He was taller than she’d expected. He was wearing a suit jacket, a crisp white shirt and dark jeans.

He smiled as he walked toward her.

Why had she agreed to this? If he knew she was out with another man, she wondered, would he be upset?

“Wow. You’re even prettier in person,” he said.
She got up from her chair to greet him. “Thank you.”
They discussed their children and her recent trip to San Antonio (one of her favorite cities) and his job on Capitol Hill. The conversation and wine flowed easily. He was witty and charming.

He even made her laugh. She found herself smiling.

And even though he wasn’t him, the thought occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, she could enjoy spending time with someone else.

She had warned him she needed to leave early, but somehow 8:37pm turned into 10:49. She needed to be up early the next day.

“I really should go,” she said.

“But you haven’t even finished your drink.”

He smiled at her. His eyes were the perfect shade of blue.

She smiled back.

She knew she needed to go.

Finally he walked her to her car.

The moon was full.

“I’d really like to see you again,” he said.

“I’ll text you,” she said.

How did this happen? She should have stayed home.

As she drove home, she received a message. She looked down at her phone. “I’d like to see you again. Any chance you’re free Friday night?”
Suddenly she felt guilty. She hadn’t expected to be interested in anyone else. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This was only meant to be a distraction from another night spent sitting home alone, thinking about him, with an empty ache in her chest,  waiting for him to finally make up his mind.

She thought about all of the nights spent in his bed. All of the nights they stayed up talking and making love. His hands all over her body. The way he kissed her. How could he just throw that all away?

As she lay in bed that night, the rain poured down outside her window.

The next morning she checked her phone again. No missed calls.

She had been thinking about him. But he hadn’t been thinking of her. Even so, she decided to give him one more week. Maybe he would figure it all out and realize he really did want to be with her. Or maybe she would finally decide to walk away for good.

Just then she received a text: “Looking forward to seeing you.”  

It had finally stopped raining. She needed to get dressed. She didn’t want to be late for work.

She looked out her window. The sky was slate blue. And she was indecisive.

photo (1)

Unhinged

 

A strange thing happens when I cry
My eyes turn a dark blue green
And it’s impossible to hide the fact that I’ve been crying

 

What is it about the feeling of love that makes us feel invincible

When suddenly everything in the world just glows
Including you
And when we lose that feeling of love – real or not- it seems like the entire universe crumbles and falls apart around you
And for a short time it seems nothing can make you smile
Because all you feel is the loss of something missing

The ache of emptiness that temporarily consumes you

When you cry so much that your heart and your head just ache


There are some moments of sadness when it feels like you’ll never recover
But deep down inside you know you will

Because you always do

But in that moment you feel like you want to disappear
And you replay it all over and over again in your head
Wondering what you did wrong and wishing you had done something differently
Worrying about the most pointless things
Like maybe you weren’t good enough
And how you spent hours preparing and trying to make everything perfect
When the reality is none of those things matter
Not one little bit
It doesn’t matter how beautiful he thinks you are or how perfect your body is or is not or if you or how much you care or how hard you tried
The truth is you probably didn’t do anything wrong and sometimes you can do everything right and it still doesn’t matter
Because it has nothing to do with you and absolutely everything to do with the other person
You have no control over what the other person says or thinks or does
No control over what they do or if they decide to leave

And I understand why men think women are crazy sometimes
Because love makes us crazy
It makes you say and do unthinkable things because you can’t possibly think clearly when you are in that state
When someone you cared about walks out of your life forever
When something that was meaningful and important is suddenly
Gone
You become unhinged
It’s like stopping your car in the middle of the road or reading a book only halfway through
You can’t abruptly slam on the brakes and stop somewhere in the middle
You can’t make sense of something when a huge part of it is missing
You have to go all the way through and complete the entire journey
Love and relationships need to run their natural course

In the end you have to accept that there are certain things that you’ll never understand
Some people do things and you have no control over their actions or why they did it or the outcome
All you can do is control how you think and how you react

And it’s not that much different than being in an accident when you’ve been thrown from your car and you’re in a situation that’s suddenly unrecognizable and foreign and confusing

It’s impossible to brace for the impact

And it takes time to recover and to make sense of something you don’t recognize or fully understand
All you can do is to allow yourself time to grieve and heal


And you know you’ll recover because you’ve felt this way before and you’ll feel this way again

But that doesn’t make it easier

Because you only meet amazing people a very few rare times throughout your life

People who have the ability to touch you in some invisible way, who change you forever

And no matter how many times you’ve imagined it happening, it’s always devastating and it always hurts like hell

Because you can’t walk into someone’s life and share a part of it, then just walk out without feeling some kind of loss

People are not cars that you take out for a test drive

A persons life isn’t a revolving door where you can swing in and out without affecting them in some way

And your presence – and eventual absence- in someone’s life does matter

It changes us in some small or significant way

And the people we cared about and maybe even loved – even for a short time –  in some small way, stay with us forever

“Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.”

Louis de Bernieres

Unhinged: Random Thoughts on Love, Loss and Pain – Just some random personal thoughts strewn together.

 

The Affair

As her date droned on, she noticed a group of guys laughing and drinking beer a few feet away. The bar was loud and crowded. She couldn’t make out their faces. Except for one.

Her date asked her a question.

“What?” All she could hear was this handsome stranger laughing a few feet away.

She caught him staring at her. So she smiled back. And no sooner had her date left to make a phone call, she looked up to see his face smiling down at her.

He asked her her name. Before she could answer, he said “You’re beautiful.”

Soon they were walking down the street together, huddled close in the winter wind. They passed a group of loud girls, smoking and an old man walking his dog.

He grabbed her hand and led her across the street and into another bar. His hand felt warm and strong.

“Two vodka tonics” he said to the bartender. Despite the toasty fire crackling in the fireplace, the bar was practically empty.

He said something funny and she laughed. Suddenly his hand was on her waist, gently pulling her closer. She thought he might kiss her. But instead he leaned over and whispered into her ear.

She’d always been attracted to quirky. But only when it was perfectly mixed with intelligence and wit and charm and of course humor.

And he was all of the above.

And the fact that he was tall was the cherry on the all ready delicious cake.

Two hours later, they were in his apartment. He offered to take her coat. She politely declined.

“I really should go,” she said. As she started to leave, he leaned over and kissed her. Soft and slow at first, then deeper and passionately. She wanted to tear off her coat and throw her clothes on the floor. But instead she kissed him one last time and left.

The 18 minute drive home felt like an hour.

Two nights later she was in his apartment again. A bottle of Patron sat on his countertop next to a basket of fresh raspberries. How did he know those were her favorites?

He was wearing dark jeans and a long sleeved tee and a boyish grin. He opened the tequila and she did a shot to take the edge off. They drank and talked and kissed. He told her about his family. She talked about her new job. They kissed and talked and drank some more. His lips were on her neck. Her hands were on his waist.

She knew she wanted to sleep with him but there were so many reasons not to. But maybe even more reasons why she should. His lips tasted like tequila and raspberries and perfection. He pulled her closer and she whispered into his ear “Where’s your room?”

A candle was burning on his nightstand. His room smelled like red velvet cake. His bed sheets were dark gray. She could hear music playing from the apartment next door.

His curtains were slightly drawn and she could see the moon outside his window. He kissed her as she started to unbutton his pants. Their hands were everywhere. She could feel the weight of his body on hers and every doubt she had disappeared from her mind. Every movement felt electric. The candle flickered next to the bed. He felt perfect and delicious and intoxicating.

At 6:15am the alarm went off on her cell phone. He helped her locate her clothes as she hurriedly dressed. He followed her to the door. All he was wearing were a pair of dark blue gym shorts. His chest was smooth and perfect. She kissed him goodbye.

They started meeting 2 or 3 times a week. Sometimes it would be at her house and sometimes, his. They’d snuggle on the couch and watch a movie, but mostly they would talk and drink and make out for hours before falling into a heap in bed. And in the morning he would always tell her how beautiful her eyes were.

It was easy and fun and exhilarating and uncomplicated. Weeks and months passed. Sexy texts and flirty conversations. She knew it wouldn’t last – they both knew – but it felt good now. And he was smart and sexy and he was so drawn to her and their bodies fit so perfectly together. The sex was addictive. She knew she couldn’t say no.

Then something happened. It doesn’t matter what. Because something always happens. He started to get too close and he said something that hurt her feelings. And she held back because she knew it could never be anymore than it was. He pushed her away and she pushed him away further. She imagined she would never see his beautiful face ever again so she busied herself with work and meaningless things.

The weather grew colder and she would lie awake at night thinking about him. He imagined her with someone else and it drove him insane. But neither of them contacted each other. They were both too stubborn and practical, and she was so busy. But not too busy to lie awake at night imagining all the nights they had spent together in her bed.

And he stayed busy too. But he could still smell her on his pillows and he imagined her body wrapped around his.

And the days and weeks passed and it started to get easier. She started to forget the little things. Like how his skin smelled and the way he would hold her so close, wrapping his arms around her waist when they were lying in bed.

One night, around 1:24am or something like that, he sent her a text.

“I miss you.”

They saw each other again after that. It turns out, it wasn’t an affair. It lasted over a year and a half. And each time he would walk through her door, without a word, he would  immediately grab her and kiss her like he hadn’t seen her in a hundred years.  It was sexy and passionate and she never wanted it to end.

He made her feel beautiful.

Then something else happened. Maybe she met someone else. Or maybe he did.  It doesn’t really matter. Because something else always happens. And so it ended again and they went their separate ways, as people always do.

And sometimes when she is out with another guy, she gets distracted and finds herself searching for his face in the crowd.

And sometimes when he is out with his friends, he’ll see a girl with long blonde hair and he’ll hear her laugh and he imagines it is her.

Image #1047511 by korshun on Favim.com

Love in the Rain | via Tumblr – image #1047511 by korshun on Favim.com

Old Man

The old man next door lives in a beautiful old brick house. The 3rd floor attic windows are framed with white curtains.

Each day as I drink my morning coffee, I can see him out my window, as he fills the many bird feeders in his yard. He comes out the side door and walks slowly to the old red wooden shed a few yards away from his house. He carries a large green bucket back and forth, filling it with bird seed.  He does this several times, as he has many feeders in his yard. I have never seen his face but he has a full head of thick white hair. He stands about 6 feet tall, but it’s hard to tell because he is slightly hunched over. He always wears a tall pair of black Wellingtons pulled up over dark gray pants and a plain brown coat.

Each morning when I open my back doors to walk the dog, I can hear all of the birds chirping happily, loudly.

The white flowered curtains in the attic windows suggest a woman lived there once, too. But I have never seen anyone but him. And because I don’t know anything about this man, I imagined his and her story in my head.

They fell in love at fifteen. High school sweethearts.  He thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Small and fragile. He waited patiently until after they both graduated to ask her father for her hand in marriage.  Very much in love, they dreamed of starting a family. They saved enough money and were able to buy a big beautiful brick house in the country. They imagined filling each room with small voices and little feet running and playing in the garden.

They tried for many years to have children, but were unsuccessful. They later found out she was unable to have children. Eventually they stopped trying. There would be no children to wake them up each Christmas morning. No birthday cakes to bake. No tiny hands to pick flowers from the garden on Mothers Day.

The years made her more fragile, but yet she spent her days outside, lovingly tending and planting her favorite flowers as he built beautiful bird houses from recycled old wood to hang in all of the trees.

Spring became their favorite time of year and they would spend their days outside, enjoying the beautiful sanctuary they had created together.

The years went by and she fell ill. In her final days, he never left her bedside. He hired a nurse to care for her in their home. One night, as he admired her peacefully asleep, she slipped away from him quietly, as he gently held her thin hand.

He retired and kept to himself, spending his days alone. Sometimes reading, but mostly looking out the window, watching the birds in their weed ridden garden. His nights spent warding off insomnia.

And now he gets up with the sun each day, and sometimes before the sun. He sits on an old painted bench next to the back door, resting his weary hands on the worn wood. He puts on his Wellingtons and his old brown coat and goes outside to feed the birds.

The garden is overgrown with leaves and vines, but spring is just around the corner. Soon he’ll be busy pulling and tending and planting again.

I saw the old man yesterday. The sun was out and the air was crisp. A bag of soil, a watering can and some gardening tools, all lined up carefully next to the shed.

Each spring he does his best to restore the garden to it’s original beauty, knowing it will never be the same.

He does it because it reminds him of her.

But it will never be as beautiful as the woman whose hands can no longer hold his.

11Saint Luke Arch Vertical

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Words

I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you everything that would make you understand.

But I don’t know what those words are. Or if they even exist.

Maybe we would see each other and the words would just fall naturally in that exact moment.

And we would sort them out together.

Or maybe we would simply look at each other and we would both just know.

We would see everything we ever needed to say in each others eyes.

But mostly, all the things we never needed to say.

Because we both know.

And maybe no words would be needed at all. – MMP

BW

They would walk for hours through the streets of each new city.

Laughing and talking and discovering each one together. Creating memories.

And discovering each other along the way.

Brokenhearted Girl

Nothing is more irresistibly beautiful and alluring and empty and sad

Than a brokenhearted girl

Nothing

She is hopeful and hopeless

Passionate and depressed

Nostalgically longing for the past

As the days and weeks trample her shattered dreams

One by fucking one

Until one day she wakes up

Surrounded by strangers and noise and interruptions

Swirling all around her

The wind, tossing her hair

Longing to touch her beauty

She rejects them all

Instead, choosing her memories

Imprisoned in her own mind

Tragically, courting her own sadness

 

– MMP

11Dress_BW_

Pretty things

December 2012: One of the low points in my life. I had lost my job earlier that year and now it was almost Christmas.

I wanted to hide away from the world. Not only because of the embarrassment and shame that accompany hard times, but mostly to focus on getting my life back together.

I took my daughters to the Family Dollar Store to buy some packing tape. Possibly the most depressing store ever.

I found two kinds of tape. One was $2.99 and the other was $1. I joked to the clerk that I was too poor to afford the $2.99 roll as I paid for the $1 roll. After we left, my older daughter (who was only 10 at the time) said “Mommy! Don’t tell people we’re poor!” Clearly, I had embarrassed her.

A week earlier, I created an eBay account. Being out of work meant I had to start selling some personal things. In just one week I had sold two items. I was excited, until I got to the post office and spent $18 for postage on an item I had only charged a $3 shipping fee for. Live and learn.

As soon as I got home, I immediately readjusted the shipping fees on all my other items.

Which brings me to the rings. Years before, my ex-husband had given me a beautiful 3-stone engagement ring. One large center diamond, representing the present and two smaller diamonds on either side, representing the past and the future.  The other was a beautiful custom made engagement ring given to me by a man I dated for 4 years after my divorce. A beautiful 1.5 carat cushion cut diamond, surrounded by beaded diamonds and a diamond wedding band to match.  It was beautiful. I tried to return it to him after we broke up, but he insisted I keep it. Both gifts from men who had loved me at one time. Now gone, but with memories still attached.

I never imagined I would have to sell such things, but I never imagined a lot of the hard times I’ve faced in my life. Sometimes things just happen. Reluctantly, I posted both sets on eBay. The custom set alone was worth well over $5,500, but I asked for less than half.

Being new to eBay, I assumed no one would buy them, so I took them to a local jewelry store. The appraiser took all four rings (two diamond engagement rings, and two bands) to a room at the back of the store. A few minutes later, he returned and offered me only a small fraction of what they were worth. I knew his offer was unfair, but before I could think, I heard myself say “Okay.”

As I left, I suddenly felt sad. It wasn’t that I would miss the rings (I hadn’t worn them in years), but that each one had a string of memories attached. Like the warm spring day when my ex-husband got down on one knee to propose, and all I could think about was how corny he looked. (Maybe I’m just an awful person.)

Or the December day, when I was pregnant with my first daughter, and lost my engagement ring. We had been Christmas shopping all day. I never realized it was gone until after we’d returned home. We spent hours that evening, driving from store to store, retracing every step and scanning the parking lots, searching but never found it. The next day, on Christmas eve morning, I took the dog outside for a walk.  And there in the grass, reflecting in the morning sun was my ring.

Or the day my ex-boyfriend threw the ring box at me and said “Here. I got you something.”  A gorgeous engagement ring, custom made just for me and how he threw the box at me. So terribly romantic. Anyway…

I had always imagined passing my rings and all my other pretty things, down to my daughters. Not that I owned anything spectacular, but each piece had meaning.

And now they were gone. And that made me sad.

But when you’ve been unemployed for 6 months, and it’s 3 weeks before Christmas, diamond rings don’t seem all that important anymore. Not to me, anyway. I used the cash the man at the jewelry store had given me to buy Christmas presents for my girls.

Gifts for two deserving little girls who still believed in and were expecting the arrival of Santa? Or a few rings?

To me, the answer was obvious.

To most people, a ring is a symbol of everlasting love. But to me, a ring is simply another pretty thing that you can wear. Perhaps nothing more.

I’d give up a hundred rings to have just one person who won’t abandon me when things get tough. Someone who will always be there to support me, no matter what.

No material object – and certainly not any kind of ring – can ever replace that.

I’d rather have a man strong enough to hold me when it feels like my entire world is falling apart. Or when it feels like I’m falling apart.

I’d rather have the love and support of my best friend and lover holding my hand, every single day. Because rings and objects don’t mean anything when you’re alone.

In the end, all that really matters is having the people who you love, standing beside you.

And no piece of jewelry could ever be worth more than that.

 

Photo credit: the-collectiveonline.com

Photo credit: the-collectiveonline.com

 

When Love Is (Or Isn’t) Enough

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  The story of a couple who meet, fall in love and break up.

Their break up is so painful they both decide to undergo a procedure that erases all memory of their relationship.

After their memories are erased they become strangers and go their separate ways.

But they meet a second time and are instantly attracted to each other, as if meeting for the first time.

The movie ends there, suggesting they fall in love all over again, despite their past.

The whole thing- falling in love, meeting a second time and being given a second chance- is appealing on many levels.

Most people have one person they wish they could have a second chance with.

A past relationship that was electric and exciting and passionate that you wish you could do it all over again. Even if there was some bad mixed in with all the good.

No relationship is ever perfect and every couple encounters problems and misunderstandings. People change, circumstances change and feelings can change, too.

And a history that took months and years to build up, can all fall apart as easily as a sand castle being washed away by the tide.

You might try and save it.  You grab your bucket and add more sand.

And things are good again. Maybe not as perfect as before but there’s still a lot of good left so you both hold on.

But the issues and the tide will reappear again. And unless both people are trying to fix it, you realize you can’t do it alone.

The whole situation can seem impossible and overwhelming. And sometimes it’s easier to walk away when you feel hurt, even if you love someone.

But after some time has passed, you start to miss the other person and maybe even wish you had a second chance.

But what if all your bad memories-  every fight, every lie, every hurtful word ever spoken – were all erased.

What if you met again as strangers without a past.

Maybe this time you would both be different.

Maybe if enough time had passed and if your experiences had changed, maybe you’d both be better.

Maybe. Or maybe erasing the past wouldn’t make any difference at all.

Don’t mistakes teach us what not to do next time and how to be better?

How would we know what to do differently if there were no past to learn from?

Maybe a second chance with someone wouldn’t be wonderful at all.

To go through the hurt and pain of breaking up all over again? No one would ever choose that.

And what if the other person walked away without a fight. Or they treated you badly the first time?

If they really loved you, wouldn’t they have tried harder and treated you better? Would it be any different the second time?

It takes mutual love and respect and the effort from two people, to build the relationship and to protect the sand castle.

These are all just words and words don’t really mean anything unless the person who they are meant for actually reads them.

And even if they read them, there are no magic words that can change the past and make things work. Not even “I love you,” not even “I’m sorry,” and not even “I really wish we could start over again.”

Love isn’t always enough and some things were just not meant to be.

What does matter is finding someone who won’t give up on you. Even after you’ve messed up.

Someone who is as passionate about you as you are about them.

Otherwise, all you end up with is a pile of useless fucking sand.

“If you love something, let it go.

If you don’t love something, definitely let it go. Basically, just drop everything, who cares.” – B.J. Novak

 

I Love You, by Banksy, canvas print.

I Love You, by Banksy, canvas print.

 

   http://www.imdb.com/media/rm2954530560/tt0338013