tmbt: green sweater goodbye, hello heart
The softness of his sweater was half the fiber, half the woodsy spice of the scent that enveloped it and I had a hard time saying no. It was a beautiful shade of half sage, half spring green and I told him outright that one day that sweater would simply disappear from his closet. I have another of his that he’s yet to even realize is gone, I think. Though washed several times, there is still a trace of him in that dark blue cotton.
There are no steadfast rules of engagement for me any more. No ‘absolutely nots’, no if A+B, then W. There are no sudden hang ups about hang ups and though a sarcastic mid-western vibe may still imbue my words from time to time, there are no yelling matches, no utter anguish in the face of him… or anyone.
Is it beautiful to relax and withdraw? Is it better to politely thank the invitation and turn slightly with it as it rolls on by? Is it beautiful to know that my bed is my own for at least another night and that the tears in my pillow are in my pillow and not on some other shirt I’ll probably covet for the sheer nostalgia my own mind will attach to it, fond or not? Is it beautiful to be at my desk knowing I got more sleep by passing up affections sincere if limited? If I knew for sure, I would not be asking. You. Myself.
Perhaps what is beautiful is this: There are no instant Yeses, no ‘just add water’ Noes and though I am frightened by both the prospect and the experience of these guards living without me, I am beginning to see my own heart better for their absence.
The most beautiful thing I saw last night was my own heart, a little closer, a little clearer.