He came to me on a warm summer evening. It was the beginning of a journey that lasted until I went to him on a brisk October day much like today in the Northeast.
He brought lobster in July, I brought questions in October… ten years later. A complicated path filled with skewed morale compasses that were frenetic. Love grows like a beautiful flower or sometimes like a pesky weed, how do we know which is which? Sometimes weeds are appealing, as we don’t think they are weeds, they are deceiving in their appearance and composition.
The love grew to be real, as deep as the ocean as wide as the sky. A powerful magnet that drew two souls together for a long period of time. We loved too deeply. A dream splintered in numerous directions.
Does telling a story of a past love have any value today? I’m not sure. We are different people now many years later. He is healthier in body so I hear and I am healthier in mind, as I know.
The times we spent tougher are a part of who I was and am today. Interesting how one can remember so vividly things that happened in their past. Some days I can’t remember what I did the day before, but Leo Frank Byron I remember.
to be continued….