And we are no longer

“C’mon! Everyone up!” screams the man in front of my brother and I at the baseball game this past weekend. “It’s our turn!”

We are doing the wave. I turn to my left and squint up into the bleachers next to us, and see the crowd rise and fall with spirit. Our turn. Though my body feels as though I’m wading through mud, I stand up. Fling my arms over my head. Smile. Sit down. Turn to my right, see the wave start all over again.

And then it comes back to us, and I rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise and fall.

And that’s how it works. Things keep going on and you keep moving. I marvel at this concept.

But what other choice is there?

**********

The night prior, Infatuation had come over and I had greeted him with the biggest, longest hug I could muster. Little did I know that 15 minutes later he would tell me he didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know how to do all the things a boyfriend should do. Worthless, in his words.

I was lying on my back on my bed and I sat up when I asked him if he wanted this, and he said, “I don’t know.”

I swallowed hard. Fought that urge to panic, to gasp for breath. Just nodded.

*********

This is unlike all the other times. All the other times, I was the one saying, “This isn’t working.” I was the one in charge, the one ending it. And there’s always been a reason, some sort of fact that I can gnaw on for a bit, savor and think, “Oh yes, this is WHY we don’t belong, this is it. Of course.”

But this time was different, and in so many ways it’s sadder than a long relationship and I can feel the weight of “Might Have Been” on my shoulders. We had just about six months; a time period that even I would just shrug at. But we didn’t have the fights and the resentment. We didn’t have the “this is the same old thing” a relationship of several years can sink into. We had the newness and the excitement and the wonder; we had hope and the curiosity and chemistry.

But I don’t hate him and I am not angry. I will place our memories together into that soft and velvety spot in my heart of No Regrets. I will tuck him away into the file of “A Reason” because he was not for a season nor for a lifetime. I will consider him a good person and wish him great fortune because I respect him and care about him.

I will try to understand.

*********

There are no goodnight calls to miss. There are no pictures for me to take down; barely any mementos to tuck away into a shoe box high on a closet shelf. There are no toothbrushes for me to throw away. No great plans to cancel or rearrange.

Just Jo.

*********

I will think of him when I go downtown and walk among the old Los Angeles buildings and sit in a corner wine bar. I will consider what his ideas might have been when I read a business article. I will think of him when I shop for groceries and flip through cookbooks. I will think of him when I read Hemingway or Steinbeck; eat pizza; walk barefoot outside; when I am in the sunshine and feeling wonderful.

Tucking it all away, tucking it all away. That quiet, velvety box of memories long spent; often recalled with light laughter and underlying weight; the undercurrent of mysterious reasons that I have yet to understand.

Tucking it all away…