December 10, 2014

The Reasons Why Don't Matter

I never get tired of seeing her with her hair down and it is not just because most of time she has some sort of clip or rubber band thing in it.

Maybe it is because of how it frames her face and takes my eyes straight to hers or how it outlines her smile.

Could be because I love grabbing a handful of it when we kiss or how when I play with it I can see the stress fall right off of her. Doesn't really matter why, how or what because it just is.

She doesn't see herself the way I do. Doesn't see how the signs of age turn me on because I don't see her as being tired and worn out, instead I see wisdom, experience and a woman who understands me in a way no one else ever seems to.

Sometimes she forgets about that. Sometimes she gets caught up in the crap that makes life more challenging and wonders what the hell she is thinking. Sometimes she convinces herself there is no point, no purpose and no reason to spend time with me.

It would be a false to say I have never thought about walking away or that I haven't asked the same questions she has. Been to that place more than once and spent more time reading the words that are written upon those walls than I care to think about.

But I haven't walked. Haven't left. Haven't given up.

Some call that obsessive. Some call that foolish, dumb and frightening while others call it romantic.

Definitions will always vary depending upon what side of the fence you stand upon. If it rains in Pepper Pike while the sun shines Fort Worth your decision to get wet or feel the warmth of the sun upon your back is contingent upon where you are.

The decisions that have or have not been made don't require approval from anyone other than the parties involved and if others don't like it they can go play in traffic.

I remember standing on the balcony, arms around each other, comfortable in the warmth of a best friend's presence.

Nuzzling her neck I smelled home and knew it could be anywhere she was. When she asked me why I was smiling I told her I loved her and when she said it back I said "I know."

Her nose scrunched up and she told me I should be more humble. I laughed again and said I had been humbled by life more times than I could count. Hell and I had become fast friends and I wasn't afraid to visit it again because experience had proven I could climb back out.

Sometimes life takes those declarations far too seriously so it pulled her out of my arms and sent me far away.

When I woke up we were in separate beds in separate places and I knew she had forgotten what had been.

I didn't ask if it was intentional or otherwise because the reasons didn't matter. I just knew I had been cast back down into the pit from which I had climbed out of and that even if I called out for her she wouldn't hear me nor would she come looking.

During other times there was no doubt about whether she would notice my absence. Those were the moments when my absence was as painful to her as hers was to mine.

But when memory is wiped you don't notice you are choking, literally or figuratively. You just pass through the days.

If you ask if I was angry about this I will say yes. If you ask if I was frustrated I will say yes. If you ask if I was scared I will say no.

Not because I was foolish, fool hardy or too angry to notice that I should be scared but because I recognized the pit and saw where I had left marks on the wall.

It was the same cell they had tried to keep me in before but they hadn't bothered to install new locks or hire new jailors.

All I had to do now was recreate my last escape. All I had to do was find a way to rebuild and remake it all and climb back out.

I didn't have time to worry about how to restore her memory. All I had was faith that if we had time in person I would find the key that opened the door that had been closed.

But there was far too much to do before that could happen so I did what I had done before. I took a hard look at her pictures, smiled at the memories and then walled off that part of the library because I couldn't afford to get lost thinking about love when there was work to do to get back out.

That would have to wait.

Still every now and then I heard bells in my head and had this feeling that she was thinking about me and I wondered about the future.

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