I took down her pictures. Filed them neatly away with the hundreds of other pictures from our summer together. Two from the living room. One from my bedroom. I have had the one in my bedroom up since our first date. My God was she beautiful. It was taken in a meadow in the afternoon in Yosemite. She was staring wistfully up at the sky, and her eyes were the color of the grass. She was looking at everything around her with such curiosity. With wonder. I so loved that about her. How she still managed to see things with young eyes. With wonder.

Looking at that picture you can see that she was falling in love. It was hard to take that picture down. Today I removed her name from my speed dial. It was too difficult to scroll past her name every time I called my parents or my boss. I had spoken to her nearly every day since we first met. It's funny. When I wanted to talk about all the mundane trivia of my life (beyond the drivel I pour out here), all the minutia that friends chat about when they just need to talk to someone about anything simply for the connection created, she was the person I wanted to call. And sadly, still want to call.

I've cleaned my room. Scrubbed the floors. Tried to remove the last strands of her hair that haunt my home. It's like trying to erase the memory of someone. Remove evidence of their presence. Their impact. Those snapshots and tokens are ghosts. Constant reminders right now are too much like sand in a wound. It's a strange place to be in. Simultaneously wanting her more than anything else in the world and wanting nothing to do with her at all. Removing those pictures and hiding the reminders are the physical manifestations of my acceptance. It's pouring water over the last embers of hope. But the smoke from that fire still burns my eyes.

I suppose there is light in this somewhere. I need to turn my eyes from what was behind. Focus them on what is ahead. Swallow hard and wash away the taste of hurt and loss and frustration and rejection that still lingers in my throat. Turn away from the fantasy of what could have been and look at what may still be. Every relationship I have had has been better than the last. Every year I have lived has been better than the last. I have lost the best thing to ever happen to me. Who's to say she was the best thing that will ever happen to me? The road ahead appears significantly longer than the road behind. But who can say for sure? I hoped we would walk down that road together. She didn't like the road or didn't like the company. So for now I'm walking alone. We all have to make those choices. Her choice wasn't the same as my own. But the choices are infinite. And the best I can do now is to try to look at my future with curiosity. With wonder. And one day I'll look back at the past and smile.
Jim Parisi