You sent me something you wrote about me today. I am never sure if it's you or something you want to say via someone else's words, so I Googled a line. Your secret blog which I knew about but purposely forgot about came up. The post before mine talked about the last woman you loved and lost. You said that you live a guarded life and you don't share yourself with anyone. You couldn't take another fall like that.
I want to tell you that falling is more permanent than anything. It's not failing. And that it is no reason to close yourself. Jesus, I thought you were smart enough to know that, but I guess you have had only three great loves, all under the umbrella of your marriage and that must have colored things in a way that I don't understand. You expect permanence to the point that you rail against it. I have loved and lost so many times - to great success - despite the failure. Maybe that's how I choose to view it. But I have not given up. I do believe that two people can understand each other enough to overcome changes. So I am not broken by loss.
I will always remember when we walked in the frigid cold though the streets of Cambridge. You said you didn't know what to do next. You were naked, without a plan, without anything but the void of a future uncertain. The path was laid out for you, but it didn't make concrete sense. That's the night we fell in love, wether you know it or not.
She will always be there. All of them. You can call her, talk to her, you both will laugh. Maybe it's raining where you both are, thousands of miles away. But until you see her more as what she is and not what she means to you, you will never see her.
I have learned to let go so many times with you that I don't know I can see you any other way but far away. Maybe I'll see you on the big city streets. And if I do, time will stop, as it has so many times.
Love,
Me
