What is this thing?

Some months ago, visiting a place of times past, I happened to see a friend of a past love. This woman had become my friend herself, and to the best of my knowledge she remained a friend. So, I decided to speak with her. We caught up a bit on each other’s lives, families, and personal complaints joys and thoughts. It was a pleasant affair, and as it was coming to a close, we seemed to gauge each other about the prospect of discussing the initial means of our friendship, my past love. The topic just flowed and we discussed how she was doing, what she was doing, and such. It appears this past love still has interest. And though I share some interest, I could never be more than a friend. I know that would not work, neither my conscious nor my past loves lack of constraint would be sufficiently satisfied with any deal we two might arrange. Though when proffered a phone number, I accepted if with reservations, knowing I would not call.

Not so long ago, as I was in that particular area again, I met the lady herself. It has been some time since we were together, and we had been together for 8 years. She was looking good, sprightly perhaps, and pleasant. We spent some time discussing life and all, and I enjoyed the visit, and knowing that she is well. But as all visits must, our time together came to a close. She invited me to stop by, gave me her phone number, and there was a set to her I had no doubts about. She is still open to me, to my touch, to my love.

As I said, I have no intention of reinvigorating an incorrect love. Celibate four or more years, temptations are probably more potent than ever. Still, I did nothing. Even more recently, I happened to be in that area once again. This time, I never saw her, she did not approach, she actually snuck past me, I do believe. I saw her face, as she cast a glance my way, then drove off. I realize she was crushed. Crushed by my failure to visit, crushed by her feelings from this.

Though it would be so easy to say “Such is life.” or “Time heals all things.”, I think I will keep my mouth shut. I truly had hoped she would move on. She would be a good find. She is a good love, a good cook, she obeys and yet lends guidance (playing me like a fiddle, after a little social tuning, from time to time, and actually much to my joy after I figured it out). She has wisdom and some smarts, she is a good woman. We parted because she would not move from that place and, I think too, because she cannot have children. Or at least, that last was something I was beginning to feel called toward. Not being able to be a father would always have been a difficulty. I do not understand why she has not gone on, and I probably cannot understand the depths of her pain, but I can pray for her, in her loneliness, but that is all I can do. What a thing, this thing called love.