I have a whole heavy bag of past relationships. Although I learned a lot during that time in my life, I learned this the most: that I take heartache hard.
Because even in the situations where I knew this wasn't what I wanted, that I truly did want to turn away and move on, I'd still wake up the morning after the breakup with a bruise-y blue residue over my hands, my face, my bed, my closet, my path to school. While I was certainly mourning the loss of what was and what could have been, I eventually grew to mourn something more universal than just the individual comforts of a particular boyfriend in a particular relationship.I mourned the fact that I still hadn't found someone who was good for me that I was equally good for, too. And that's the broader issue that weighed on my heart as I moved from love to love, from him asking, "What's happening to us?" in his pajamas on my front porch, from discussing the humanistic qualities of oatmeal while stargazing one last time, from a knowing farewell at a final American Heritage lecture.
I know this--or at least a variation of this--is a common theme in college dating. I think we all carry this grief at one time or another.
As I'm writing this, my feet are in Fred's lap. He's playing with my toes, watching Family Feud, chuckling to himself every few minutes. I hear again and again the improbability of soulmates; and yet, there are times when I am so sure that Fred is mine. When we ride our bikes and the setting sun lights his curly hair just so. When we pretend to be robots until we laugh so hard our sides nearly split. When we wipe away stray tears after Land Before Time. And, yes, even when we argue and have to be apart for a time to blow off steam.In these moments when Steve Harvey's overdone attitude is shining into our quiet family room, the air still and quiet outside our screened windows and the cat is stalking a fruit fly in the corner of the room...these moments erase any trace of what ifs and why nots, the games of yes and no no no.
I'm in the right place with the right person, and the grief from before is gone.
Happy two years, Fred. :)
