I'll Say Goodbye to Love

But the whole exchange sticks with me.

I have done so much healing in these last few months.

Two months earlier I was a wreck. Leaning into my freinds when I thought I'd collapse. Wishing Scott would change his mind, change his heart. Hoping I'd someday wake up and what went wrong would not be the first thought to plague me. Getting physically ill at the idea of actually going on a date with someone new.

And now I was strong. Feeling capable and in control. Enjoying the attention I've been getting from other men. Not throwing up at the thought of trying them on for size. I can actually listen to the entire playlist on my iPod again. Inclusive of the Adele songs.

Scott approaching me was the thing I'd hoped would happen. And he has. And I can't go back.

And what is a little bit sad - no, a lot sad - is the finality of it. 

Our whole lives we've dabbled in each other's lives. As we moved from milestone to milestone we stayed in touch. We deftly avoided inviting each other to our weddings. There was always an attraction - something unacknowledged and unspoken. Something that drew us together. And as we dated people and married and divorced and meandered through the paths of our lives, we stayed loosely tethered to one another. There was always possibility.

And now that we'd had our time, loved big and been torn assunder, it is different. He left. And now seems open to the possibility of another chance.

And I have pushed him away and avoided any real talk about it.

And when I actually have to say the words -- when I actually have to say no -- that will be the end. The end for good. No further chances.

For now he won't actually ask and I won't actually answer. We both avoid what we know it will mean.

For that final place is a place I haven't been to in 30 years.  And I am sad all over again. In an entirely different way.