I long for freedom. I crave adventure.
But please don’t ask me to unpack.
Because it means the fun is over
and the boring and mundane await.
Except with you—with you I emptied myself.
The space filled with years of scattered snapshots and feelings
we couldn’t begin to understand, all came tumbling out of me.
Finally content to settle in, to redefine freedom.
To come home.
But time did what time often does
and I struggle to reconcile what we had then with
where our feelings have migrated to now.
So I’ve decided that little by little, every day,
I will place a part of you—a piece of us—
back into the space you once held inside me.
The space that brought out the smile you loved;
that kept us young and hopeful, embracing an eternal crush.
Bit by bit, I will rearrange that space until all the moments fit tight;
perhaps a bit more crowded than before
when the feelings weren’t this big, this heavy, this important.
But the pieces feel more fragile,
so I handle with extra care.
Now with gentle hands and a swollen heart, I pack away:
The depth of connection I didn’t consider possible
before we stumbled upon each other.
The idea that I could love someone to the extent
that I’d be willing to walk away just for the slim chance
it could help them find the answers they’re looking for.
The belief that I could share myself with someone,
just for intimacy’s sake, and walk away feeling content
with both the happiness and sadness in my heart.
The realization that I could want someone,
—a life with someone—with such certainty
and still recognize that no level of love or desire
can turn that want into reality without choice.
The notion that I could still, after all these years,
feel every feeling ever felt in the world
in the exact moment your eyes catch mine.
And when you smile…that is what I’ll pack away last.
I will fold these moments up—neatly, methodically—
making sure they do not break.
Because I long to cherish them, to pull them out and touch them
when I need proof that our adventure was real.
And if ever we are ready to return home,
—to return to us—
I will gladly unpack and find you in that place.
Author: Nicole Cameron
Image: Katia Romanova/Flickr