The Past is Just Past

Warm days like this remind me of our summer days together. The smell of heat and the light breeze seem to be the only things that haven't changed. We, on the other hand, are a different story. More and more each day I am reminded of our memories by simple scenes or objects that I encounter. And I imagine it's because your absence in my life has recently disappeared, as if it had never happened. You did not creep, you jumped back into my life and it's left me reeling and confused. I'm not yet sure if I can accept it. You communicate with me as if you had been my sister this whole time, except with slight caution, like you're testing the water or something. Like you're seeing how far you can let whatever you hid for so long go. I'm not sure if I can forgive so soon, but then I remember my own self on a lost course similar to your own. I recall the anguish, the hatred of myself as I finally realized the damage I had done to the people I was supposed to care about. I held that pain for quite a while, but then figured out that the only way to fix things was to begin healing.

The other night, sitting on those rickety old bleachers I had sat in several hundred times before got me thinking. I would have never forgiven myself if I had not attended such an important milestone in your life.