something broke this last Sunday. maybe broke is the wrong word for it, because it felt like an unraveling, a dawning, that lasted more than the Sunday itself. in fact, it was on Monday that I fully realized it, and when I did it just was there, fully formed, waiting for me to see it.
it was that I couldn't give her anything, that I had nothing she knew she wanted. that it had all been a mirage to me. and maybe she doesn't know what she wants, or maybe she does, but that that isn't mine and it never was. that eight years ago, when she had been curious about me, and I had shrugged it off, had been quite alright. and that it took me eight years to realize that my younger self had known better, in her bones.
but Sunday was also strange, in that while my body was absorbing this epiphany, and while I was still unaware of it, those few hours with them felt very nice. very comfortable, old, and lived in. except when she was hurt by him pointing out her clumsy accident, and how I in reaction to that, served her, while displaying how easily I could be clumsy too right then, not looking at him almost as if punishing him for hurting her. and maybe also except when we just entered, and her face displayed the strain and awkwardness of my inviting ourselves over to their place (in a way).
I came away knowing more surely that he and I have known each other in other lives. but also that its okay that that is irrelevant in many ways. that it is enough that he knows and I know, even if every moment one or the other of us fears the other choosing to leave. choosing to leave, given the futility, given the heartache, given the possibility of hurting others. and the other moment one considers that oneself.
on Sunday apparently no one said this aloud, but I heard it. someone saying to me that not every thought needs to be said aloud. but I sometimes wish we rather did, more often than not at least.
when we were leaving, I went to my tote and gathered what was remaining from what I had got for them, and looked back at them. his eyes were on me, and I gestured to ask him what I should do with what was in my hand. I don't know if he said it aloud or I just read his lips, and I nodded mouthing okay.
but then yesterday, I woke up in the middle of the night and it suddenly occurred to me that I might have left him feeling sad for me, for some of the things she said. even though I hadn't been sad, not for myself anyway.
