So I told you who I was. I walked down this road with you. You told me who you were. You walked down this road with me. And one day, I reached for your hand, and you didn’t pull me close to you. It rained that day, and I felt as if the clouds had darkened my whole world. I couldn’t explain the impact you had on me, my life, my heart. But I knew this – you had changed me, and I had changed you. We are better for having been together.
And yet, everything remains unfinished. This road, we’ve never finished traveling. You stopped the car, closed your eyes, rested your head against the steering wheel. I heard you sigh, yet there was nothing I could do to comfort you. Suddenly I was asked to get out, and walk, alone.
I looked back, and you were still there, silently aching, eyes closed tightly, trying to do it on your own, not believing in the power of two in getting through the roughest of seas, the stormiest of nights. Because you’ve never witnessed it before, because you’ve always driven alone. Even when you looked over at me and smiled, somehow you hadn’t ever pictured the possibility of taking a turn down a new road, of trusting, of allowing yourself to be revealed and knowing that everything you ever dreamed could be realized.
But I walk down this road, and put my trust in you now, in your solitude, to learn what you need to learn, to find a way through the forest, to come out the other side, to see what I told you was never a dream, the vast open spaces windswept grassy plains and a gently flowing river that meandered slowly down to an azure blue sea.
I love you that much. Always will. And maybe someday we’ll catch up, eat french toast, playing footsie under the table, you with your quiet smile, me with my soft giggle…like you promised we would. And let all the good and the whole and the sweet in that makes life so beautiful.
In the meantime, I’ll be walking down this road, picking flowers and smiling in the rain.