the most beautiful thing: the difference
I put on our classmate’s song this afternoon – the one you said he was singing for us, the one about driving home. I played it and remembered. I could feel a twinge of the romantic nostalgia. And I played it again. And you were right, it was for us. And I played it again. And I saw into the hidden passages and through the romantic musings and under the false pretenses and around the very part of me that held onto you. And I played it again and I was fuming! At you, at me, at the very thought of a life together that will never find us. Never say never.
Never. And I played it again and I heard it: the difference. The difference between then and now, you and him, me and me… and the difference of this kindness, this reality, this open caress was astounding. And I shook my head. And I shook my head again. And I thanked whoever and whatever it was, be it angels or the wisest part of me, that it did not come close to working out. Did I love you? Yes, so very much. And all I wanted was you. I remember everything. I’ll never forget the time when all I ever wanted was you.
But now I don’t.
And the difference is the most beautiful thing.
Photo: Cobra steering wheel.
Listen to Driving You Home by Ramaya Soskins.