In those moments of silence, I find myself smiling, not for what I’ve experienced but for the imaginary game of what if, where what could be has never been tainted by what was.

It seems that we often romanticize the what-ifs in our romantic lives. Not just in a way that it always seems better than it likely would have been if we’d had our chance, but through a lens of sadness or at the very least with a bittersweet intensity.

But what if, these what-ifs aren’t to distract us from our present, but to help us learn what to do in our future?

I often find myself tracing my thoughts back to you in moments of monotony and everyday life. As I stand at the kitchen counter slicing summer cucumbers, I think about tracing your lips with my fingertips. Or as I find myself moving my hips side to side as I sweep out yesterday’s dust, I smile as I imagine dancing with you under a canopy of stars. Yet, none of this brings sadness, but the wonderment that maybe we all have different lifetimes we could have lived. And maybe in some ways they are all running concurrently to this one.

I don’t stand around and wonder what if with regret, but curiosity, as I do always truly believe that we are exactly where we are meant to be. And while that doesn’t always mean that’s where we remain, it does all serve a purpose, just as thinking about you as my most favorite what-if does. It helps me see why it didn’t work out then and perhaps even the purpose of this entire journey. Too often it seems we see people as solely lovers, romantic interludes that we want more of. Yet, it seems seldom do we step back in the moment and see the bigger picture.

That who we choose isn’t solely about desire or the eclectic touch of chemistry, but in the lifetime that we are choosing. The wounds that we’re moving through, or the healing that we’re ready to embrace. Because those potential lovers aren’t just romantic partners but a myriad of different selves, lives, and experiences.

We think we’re choosing a person, but what we’re really doing is choosing a life.

I am satisfied with mine. Not because it’s perfect, or even because I have warm strong arms to fall into at the end of the day, but because I can see the purpose of it all. I know that relationships don’t end just because, just like I also know there is always a reason for those that don’t even truly begin. And while we can get distracted by what’s on the surface of what feels easy to admit, there is always a deeper truth at play.

I could punish myself with regret. I could shame my wounds or ridicule the choices that I’ve made, but yet, that wouldn’t be honoring all that I am or the love that I have for myself. And so I  can’t love where I am and yet despise the steps I’ve had to take to get here. But that doesn’t mean I don’t smile when I think of you and the different lifetime that we both would have had together.

Perhaps I should have long forgotten about you by now, but if there is a reason for everything then there also must be one in why I haven’t. It’s not a stone that pulls at my wings, or even a weight that rests on my heart, but instead feels like a breath of hope. Not because I necessarily believe that we will cross paths again, though I’ve certainly learned that the universe always surprises us in the most incredible of ways. But because it feels like a reminder that what I’ve always dreamed of does exist, that there are possibilities within life that we couldn’t have planned for, and that maybe these what-ifs aren’t about looking back but in actually allowing us to look ahead.

To see the what-ifs as reminders of what we could feel, just as those moments of heartbreak help teach us just how deeply we can love. A what-if isn’t necessarily real or tangible, as it’s not marked by the daily struggles of life together or the arguments of compromise. It’s separate and only exists within what is perceived. And though all of this is true, something still tells me that the lifetime we would have created may have been something truly special. The overlapping of you and I, and the sweet blossoms of all we would have created.

And so even now, I find myself smiling, thinking of what that would have looked like and what it would feel like to bring my lips to the hollow of your neck, your hand tangled in my hair. It’s not always about bittersweet memories or wishes of what I would have done differently, but in the acknowledgement that somewhere the lifetime of you and I is being lived.

And maybe these moments, or memories, are the small glimpses not of what could be, but of what is.

~

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