Just Us
The rain sings it song against the windowsill, I sit and take a deep breath. Closing my eyes, I see her face. It's always her. Lost in a myriad of my emotions, I am taken back to the time we went to the carnival together.
How the wind felt against my face as we rode the rollercoaster or how tightly she held my hand while we were on the ferris wheel. No words exchanged, just the simple acknowledgement of each other's presence. Or how I spent $10 trying to win her that stuffed teddy bear she really wanted, and how I miserably failed each time I tried. That even though I couldn't get her what she desired, she still took me out for mini donuts. Finding our way to a solute bench, overlooking the entire scene of the park. How the sun set and the stars appeared, as we hopelessly gazed into each other's eyes, knowing full well we were not meant to last.
Not mentioned above were the times that we spent arguing over our plans for the future. How me, in my selfishness and pride, tried to stop her from fulfilling her true dreams. From moving far away to another province, and going to the school she dreamt of going to. I couldn't let her go. Because where would I be if I did? Who would I be if she was not there? I couldn't just find another one like her because there was no one else like her. And I was sure that if it was not her, it would not be anyone at all. I would spend the rest of my days wandering and searching for the love that we had, only to be left disappointed and empty all the same. I was so certain that I loved her. But I did not love her enough to let her go.
I didn't love her enough to let her do what she really wanted.
I didn't love her enough to allow her to experience new things and grow as a person.
I didn't love her enough to let someone else take her to the carnival, someone else to win her that stuffed teddy bear.
I didn't love her enough to let someone else sing her new songs she'd never heard before, and write her poems I could never write for her.
I didn't love her enough to let her discover the world for herself, regardless of whether or not I would be by her side.
I didn't love her enough to let go of myself, to accept what was and what was going to be.
I didn't love her enough to let her be happy.
This love I had imagined in my head turned out to be painful delusion. It was an oasis found in the middle of a desert of my own insecurities and imperfections as a person. I only loved her because she made me feel good about myself. I only wanted to take her to carnival because I didn't want to go alone; I didn't want to be lonely. I tried to fix the craters in the moon of my heart by filling it with her presence, her admiration and her feelings.
How foolish was I to think that I owned her? What a fool I was to think that she was ever mine. She was never meant to be owned or belonged to, she was meant to be loved. To be cherished. To be cared for.
To all the times that we spent going for walks on a brisk, Sunday afternoon after mass. When we would sit together at Tim Horton's talking about our favourite movies and how we would rather have dogs than cats. All the times we tried to spend studying but instead found ourselves playing grounders at a nearby playground. Oh what kids we were. To the nights I spent writing about her, and how her face lit up every time we passed by a flower store. How we walked through the falling snow and slippery ice just to get ourselves to Simbang Gabi. Through the late nights and early mornings, she was always there.
She will always be here.
Life has a funny way of breaking things apart in order to patch them back together; stronger than it could have ever been.
That's why, as we sat on the bench over looking the park, I told her. And suddenly, there was no one else in the universe but us. No sounds, no carnivals, no people, just us. Looking into each other's souls; discovering the very best and the very worst. In that moment of time, I knew.
I knew that I loved her.
How the wind felt against my face as we rode the rollercoaster or how tightly she held my hand while we were on the ferris wheel. No words exchanged, just the simple acknowledgement of each other's presence. Or how I spent $10 trying to win her that stuffed teddy bear she really wanted, and how I miserably failed each time I tried. That even though I couldn't get her what she desired, she still took me out for mini donuts. Finding our way to a solute bench, overlooking the entire scene of the park. How the sun set and the stars appeared, as we hopelessly gazed into each other's eyes, knowing full well we were not meant to last.
Not mentioned above were the times that we spent arguing over our plans for the future. How me, in my selfishness and pride, tried to stop her from fulfilling her true dreams. From moving far away to another province, and going to the school she dreamt of going to. I couldn't let her go. Because where would I be if I did? Who would I be if she was not there? I couldn't just find another one like her because there was no one else like her. And I was sure that if it was not her, it would not be anyone at all. I would spend the rest of my days wandering and searching for the love that we had, only to be left disappointed and empty all the same. I was so certain that I loved her. But I did not love her enough to let her go.I didn't love her enough to let her do what she really wanted.
I didn't love her enough to allow her to experience new things and grow as a person.
I didn't love her enough to let someone else take her to the carnival, someone else to win her that stuffed teddy bear.
I didn't love her enough to let someone else sing her new songs she'd never heard before, and write her poems I could never write for her.
I didn't love her enough to let her discover the world for herself, regardless of whether or not I would be by her side.
I didn't love her enough to let go of myself, to accept what was and what was going to be.
I didn't love her enough to let her be happy.
This love I had imagined in my head turned out to be painful delusion. It was an oasis found in the middle of a desert of my own insecurities and imperfections as a person. I only loved her because she made me feel good about myself. I only wanted to take her to carnival because I didn't want to go alone; I didn't want to be lonely. I tried to fix the craters in the moon of my heart by filling it with her presence, her admiration and her feelings.
How foolish was I to think that I owned her? What a fool I was to think that she was ever mine. She was never meant to be owned or belonged to, she was meant to be loved. To be cherished. To be cared for.
To all the times that we spent going for walks on a brisk, Sunday afternoon after mass. When we would sit together at Tim Horton's talking about our favourite movies and how we would rather have dogs than cats. All the times we tried to spend studying but instead found ourselves playing grounders at a nearby playground. Oh what kids we were. To the nights I spent writing about her, and how her face lit up every time we passed by a flower store. How we walked through the falling snow and slippery ice just to get ourselves to Simbang Gabi. Through the late nights and early mornings, she was always there.
She will always be here.
Life has a funny way of breaking things apart in order to patch them back together; stronger than it could have ever been.
That's why, as we sat on the bench over looking the park, I told her. And suddenly, there was no one else in the universe but us. No sounds, no carnivals, no people, just us. Looking into each other's souls; discovering the very best and the very worst. In that moment of time, I knew.
I knew that I loved her.
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