I looked out at the clear green water and the rough, sun-bleached rocks, and the more beautiful it was, the sadder it made me. The beauty only reminded me of what I had lost, and as always, I couldn’t believe that I would ever be so lucky again.
Why is it — that curse and blessing of the human condition — that we see whatever we are experiencing as a pinnacle, and we’ll never have it so good again, and we can’t imagine ever getting up from where we’ve fallen.
I shouldn’t have been waiting for him, and I wasn’t, not consciously; I tried not to think about him or make hypothetical plans for the future. But I was waiting — there was anticipation in my blood and I let days pass without thought, I was counting even the seconds without noticing it.
I needed to figure out all over again what type of life I wanted to have. Living alone, shopping and cooking for one, having a comfortable place to curl up and read. The wave of liberty that would come after comfort: to be able to walk without destination, buy whatever I liked, wear whatever I wanted; the immense freedom in knowing that in any one moment I might meet someone who would change my life, start something new. It only takes a second and the movie reel changes.
I had to accept that I had no idea anymore what I wanted to do, I only had some ideas about where I wanted to be. Maybe that was enough, to start.