Pace

I saw her today. I was walking from my parked van to the bar where I was painting. She was across the street and I almost didn’t recognize her. I knew she didn’t see me, so I looked a little longer to be sure. It was her. 

When she crosses my mind or appears in my dreams, I am angry. When I see her, I hurt. It feels like it felt every time she came back after disappearing for days without telling me where she was because she wanted to avoid a hard conversation. It feels like my heart wants to jump out of my chest and be beside her like it’s only been weeks, not years since we’ve been apart. And it reminds me why I left this place. How easily I dissolved at her feet. Not anymore.

I have to remember my anger. It serves something important. I remember everything and I have to be present. In another world, I saw her just the same today, did a double-take, then I called her name and crossed the street. I asked her how she has been. We can be friendly without tension, without my head rattling with alarms and dizzying my vision. And then I said I have to get back to work and it was nice to see her. That’s just a world we’re not in because we have history and I have to protect myself. So in this world, I did my double-take and hurried to the safety on the other side of the bar door. I paced a little. Looked out the window and she was gone.