two years later.

i know i need to stop romanticizing our life together.  it is forever in the past and it is more than the good memories, the facebook photos, the deep friendship.  there's a reason why it ended and i contributed to our demise.  but here, in this navarre beach condominium, i can't help remembering the good and how desperately we both tried to fight to preserve it.  it's probably the salt water, the pier of fishermen and fisherwomen, the sun beating away the long winter before us.  for certain, it's the water--the salt of this ocean still makes me ache for you, two years after the fact.  you loved the water.  you proposed to me beside it.  it still was one of the best days of my life.

but the day it ended was also one of the best days of my life.  i never would have gotten sober without it.  i never would have broken the patterns that were breaking us.  i learned humility again, and the value of a single day, the notion that brokenness and healing are such damn bedfellows.  we grow to the extent we break.  i don't think i would have had the three month stint free of trich.  and any time i spend loving myself enough to keep my hands off of myself is blessed time.  

i know i need to stop romanticizing our life together.  it is forever in the past and it is more than the good memories.  i am still learning to let go of your hand and their hands and this ridiculous notion that i am somehow fuller with romance in my life.  i am full in my brokenness and i am remembering you in love and i am grateful.