I took a stroll today back through the town I know better than I should, past the house of the boy that I first kissed, the one I thought I loved, the one that I thought loved me, and place after place my heart took more than I ever thought it could handle.
Everything smelled the same, looked the same–the only difference was the person I have become, not so free or as innocent as I once had been. A tempered version of the fiery youth I was walks past the tree blooming like it did that spring when night wanderings were a way of life. Your perfume is the melody that takes me back no matter where I go, and I smile. It makes me think of my partner in crime and the way the cool, wet grass felt against my skin in the heat of summer night air as we talked about everything. I never guessed that one day were would be strangers again.
All of them seemed so permanent. Those moments are so special to me–some shared under moonlight, some under the sun–but now it is as if someone else lived that life. Seeing each other in passing down the isle at the grocers doesn’t spark a “hello.”
Instead it’s fear.
Perhaps we are afraid that the reminiscing ruins the memory, or perhaps we truly are strangers. New people whose pasts are nothing but a dream to help shape this perception of reality and who we have become. My dream is fading too now of the dawn of my life, but I still remember. The sweet, stolen wine and hot tubs filled to the brim with laughing bodies and the prayer the sun would never rise are once again awakened through the haze by sitting under these blooms in the blanket of twilight air. Even if it has to just be me alone from now on, remembering has never felt so good.