What Could Have Been

I see you there, standing on the front porch of our house- a house we painted ourselves-  with our baby in your arms and our toddler hanging on your legs. The smell of the breakfast we cooked together still hangs in the air around the house. I put my hand on the small of your back, our bellies touch, I kiss you on the lips, and you wish me luck on my audition. Our hands touch for a few moments; the insides of our palms say I love you to each other. I walk past our peonies and get into our car, and I look at you again, standing there with our kids, in front of our home. You look perfect; you are and always have been perfect. 

This is exactly what we always wanted. The comfortable relief of having it is palpable.

This is the world I escape to when I’m in line at the post office, when the dairy products in the grocery store all look the same to me, when I’m in the subway and the world surrounding me has too many details for me to take in, and when I’m alone in my bed at night, staring out into the darkness trying desperately not to ever forget what his chest felt like next to my cheek.

It is the world of What Could Have Been. It is make-believe and fantasy; it does not exist.

I know I must let it go. I do not want to—I want to hold on to this world forever, I want to return to it many more times, but I know I cannot.

So, I am walking away today. I do not know how long it will take before it is out of sight, or if it ever will be, but I am starting my journey now. I am leaving it behind. I am leaving him behind, along with all my dreams of what could have been. It is a difficult and slow walk. I often look back and see him there, standing tall and handsome, and I want to run back, fling my arms around him, kiss his perfect face, and bury my head into his chest. I want to say, Let me stay! Let me live here a little longer! Don’t let me go just yet!

I know I have to go now, though. 

Saying good-bye to him and to the life I had created for us in my head is really difficult and painful. I am leaving because I have to, not because I want to. We cannot be, and what I dreamed up for us will not come true; I must accept that and I must move on. 

It’s not going to be us this time around; it’s not going to be you and me. It’ll be you and someone else; me and someone else. We will live separate lives, love other people, and become the people we are meant to be, without each other.

For a while, it was a path that corresponded with reality. I saw our lives running their course, together, for the rest of our time here. I am walking away today, but a part of me walked down that path with him and will always live there, in that pretty house with a front yard, where our kids grew up in a home made of love. It is beautiful, because dreams are beautiful. 

I let it be beautiful for now. I know that one day we’ll look back and this dream will have faded; we'll be lost in the past, upstaged by other stories, and our paths will seem to have just barely touched. 

It is sad, because reality is sad.