She was drawn to this place where they once shared space and time long ago. It was dangerous to reenter as she knew it would open a part of her heart she had covered with the added years since the last time she saw him. For to open her heart again with him would create a vacuum that sucks breath and life into a void of space where the spiritual transcends all things physical. She knew it would be easy to open but harder to close—maybe even impossible to close— and that she would do it alone. That there was no prescription for the gnawing hunger that would be there. Nothing could nor would feed its appetite, for even if she could have him, she knew a place inside of her would be eternally insatiable; having him would mean wanting more of him.
The pull ran deeper than anything she’d ever known. It scared her then; it scared her now.
Words streamed in her heart, an inner knowing she couldn’t escape: Love is as strong as death, unyielding as the grave. It feeds and takes and takes some more. Even if one were to drown its flames of passion, it would be futile. She had heard these words before; now she felt them in her bones and knew they were true.
She entered. As she glided among the marked gravestones, the grass folded like waves of hair and padded like a cushion under her feet. And the trees. They held a mystery all their own— long years of being and holding the secret conversations and moments of those who have crossed their path. She stopped to listen.
Oak trees draped in Spanish moss whispered their memory: While she took in that beautiful scenery, he always kept a few steps between them so he could watch her. Although she never led on, she could feel when his eyes were on her; and to keep in time with his gaze, she spoke back to him with her petite hourglass frame, intentionally poised in each movement and step. Then she turned toward his gaze to catch him looking at her. He didn’t mind being caught. There he stood with poised frame, fingertips tucked in his front jean pockets, the weight of his body mostly shifted to one leg, and his unshakable stare like she was a wonder he couldn’t fully comprehend.
The memory enveloped her. She welcomed with fear the flow of love and adoration she once felt for him. It became clear to her now after all these years why she ran from something so beautiful and sacred. It was his tunnel vision of her that scared her. How could someone feel so much—so much for her? And her worst fear then: How long would it last? It would only be a matter of time before he would step out of the trance and realize she was just a girl, a girl with flaws—nothing special.
That’s all it took: One memory resurrected another, their shapes flip-booked in mind’s pages.
She closely examined the contents—a life in review— with a feverish excitement and with worry. What if I can’t remember? What if I can’t remember everything? She noticed things she didn’t see the first time around. Where she once focused on certain parts she thought would be most important, she was surprised to find something new and fresh in another frame’s corner.
Our memories. They are all here.
She thought she’d forgotten. She had taken in more of him—the two of them—than she realized, a discovery with clearer vision. One can appreciate the cursed gift of memories mapped side by side as a whole picture rather than how they unfolded, each destined moment reached one at a time.
Each memory swaddled her into a cocoon of rest and warmed her like the first of morning’s sun, and yet unexpectedly, her relief was quickly followed by a terrifying realization she couldn’t deny: Her heart had deceived her for almost a decade. Unconsciously or secretly like a separate entity unto herself, her heart had rehearsed their memories over the passing years, and ever since, she had been searching for him in everybody she’d ever met.
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I have been working on and off on this piece for months. It is a difficult piece with its verb shifts and moods as the character struggles between her past and present. It is still in draft stage and unfinished. As a writer, I have come to realize that nothing written is truly in its final stage; it’s rather abandoned. For now, I put this piece aside. I hope you enjoy and can relate to that one person you’ve met that has changed your life forever—that one person who has changed how you view love and how you view yourself when in the midst of it. And when those realizations and revelations come, I pray you have the courage to embrace what once was so that you are readily able to recognize and accept it the next time it comes—loving better and stronger with all intensity.