Love is difficult

Loving someone can be difficult, it can challenge you, it can change you, but the hardest thing in the world is to stop loving someone. To stop seeing their little flaws and flukes and finding them sweet, to stop wanting them to be happy, to stop feeling warm when they smile, to stop wanting to know how their day has been, to stop talking to them every day, and feeling like sharing your every silly thought with them. It is hard to forget the sound they make when they sip their tea, the way their eyes look when they laugh, the way they kiss, the feeling of being safe in their arms. It is hard to ignore the ghostly remembrance of their fingertips on your cheek or their hand in yours. You can remember how they walk, how their joints click, the sound their hair makes when they scratch their head. It is hard not to remember tiny things like and eyelash on a cheek or a missed button, an unruly curl or a tattered shirt sleeve or a hole in the toe of their sock. It is hard not to remember a thousand afternoons of silly baby talk or bad TV, evenings walking the dog, times you cried, times you laughed, times you caught your breath, times when they rescued you from a spider, times when you got caught in the rain or went ice-skating or bowling or danced. It’s hard not to want to fix everything for them, it’s hard not to want to guide them, it’s hard not to tell them your opinion.

 It is hard not to think of all these things in the split second your eyes meet, before you look away from one another, ashamed because things will never be the same, and not allowed to be sad about it.