In 1975, somewhere early spring, I was hugging my soon to be ex boy friend as hard as I could. He packed his car and was moving back to his parents.
I was sobbing. I told him I loved him.
When his car disappeared around the curve, I wiped my tears and sighed a sigh of freedom.
I asked him to leave. And I cried.
I didn’t make sense to myself, but often you don’t, and you shouldn’t.
Making sense means: your past is defining your future.
Loving someone doesn’t mean that staying with them is the best path for you.
You might be like me, your path will be long and arduous.
I had to go deeper, I had to go lower, I had to lose a lot more than just the security of a loving relationship, for me to find my own path.