It's unfair to say I'm unlucky in love, when in fact, I really am fortunate, in that I've never had a bad relationship.
I'm gonna talk about the best relationship that never was. I met her in class one spring, after the worst winter of my life. Her name reminded me of flowers and still does. We'd spend hours talking on all manner of things, and it would be a lie if I said I wasn't in love. Or at least in like. Very strong like. And the most wonderful thing of all: she felt the same.
This only became clear after she moved up north after we graduated. My friends all saw it (and told me several times), but I tried not to, precisely because the like was mutual and precisely because I was afraid of that.
We had this peculiar way of fading into and out of each others' lives, and what was even more peculiar was that when our lives would converge again, we'd always pick up exactly where we left off. We've known each other for about two years, and in those two years, we'd always come close, very very close, to speaking what was ultimately left unsaid. And leaving it unsaid was for the best.
So she called me tonight. She's going to the Appalachians, grad school. Our lives are swinging apart again. I love that these swings always return, no matter how far apart they wind up, because I had always hoped these swings would take us somewhere, together. But I'm a little glad they didn't. I'm glad for what was and is, and not hang myself on what could be.
So wherever you go, flower girl, may the road rise to meet your feet.