this past year, your big ideas, your worldly view and experiences, your easy presence drew me in as we sat for hours talking, drinking coffee.
more than your experiences, i was intrigued by your candor and passionate beliefs, your firmly held views. that was attractive to me. i knew the stories you shared were a cover for something deeper; of course, your wild tales would usually work as a great introduction, a type of foreplay … i was sure most girls fell for that … and i knew almost instantly i would too.
i wanted to know more. not just what you did or where you traveled, but what you liked and what you read and why you did what you did. i loved watching you…sitting calmly in your independence, your head gently bent over a book….
initially, you said you were taken in by my warmth. over time, you felt disarmed that i could see beneath the layers and scratch under your veneer. there wasn’t any real trick to that: i just listened. maybe you needed that?
who knew coffee and hours of talking would change my life?
those coffees led to a strong friendship; love; travel; adventure; dreams and ultimately: separation.
from that first day we met, sitting in balboa park, you said you didn’t know if you wanted your own children. you valued your independence and freedom above all else. when the topic came up again months later, i watched you struggle putting those words in your mouth. that never changed – the struggle.
there were times when you tried to swallow them – all those words whole. you tried to be one kind of man and then another kind of man and tried to make sense of it. i kept being me and attempted to hold it all with both palms open and my heart wide, but cracking, because neither of us could keep the opposing, pulling sides – forever. not within the constructs of anything resembling conventionality.
not to say that we were conventional. (neither of us are.) and i loved that about you. about us.
there was so much that we understood and that was good. that kept us friends. we didn’t fight. we didn’t yell. or call names. but the wind wasn’t calm and i wanted something more raw – while you needed grounding. this conflict, our weather…
we brewed high pressure. that hurt you. it hurt me.
yet, i have a lot for which to thank you. we have a year’s worth of words. you gave me your heart, your stories, your adventures, your friends and i gave you mine. it was beautiful.
you opened a whole new world of dreams to me…dreams i will always carry in my heart…and adventures that have changed who i am.
i’m better, stronger for it.
my appreciation and my desire for travel was re-invigorated because of you. that door will never close.
thank you for loving me in your ways. thank you for allowing me to fully love you and experience being your best friend. my life is richer.
thank you for mexico city: sabor; mezcal; tripping over cracks in sidewalks; never-ending turibus; late night endless giggling; triumphing over successfully navigating mexico’s subway system; singing in the dome in houston airport; pyramids; spring breaking; the way you became angry with me after too much mezcal because you felt like you were just another guy in my life – a rebound; my postcard that never arrived.
thank you for puerto rico: secret beaches; hamil’s; roosters; coquis; ribs so large and delicious that they deserved a photo; surprising me with that lovely pink purse; vieques; our love shack; ICE-Y; sol food; peppermint; wild horses; the cargo ferry; secretly hiding coquis all over my place.
thank you for cabo: dancing with me; secretly loving resorts; playing in the ocean; laughing at all the sand in my hair; your lovely friends; wild horses.
thank you for indonesia: elephants; balinese coffee; writing our story; kopi desa; vespa cafe; rice terraces; roosters; tim tams; jellyfish; kissed by a rose; magic; eat, pray, love; the gilis; yogurt; barracuda; sunsets; fireworks; sitting in my exit row seat.
thank you for tahoe, zoo trips, persepolis, long walks, great talks, books, writing, book sales, libraries, sextrology, harry potter, arcade fire, coldplay, stranger than fiction, salmonella on your birthday, losing at every board game, ouija, scramble, dicecapades, risk, derelict row, hummingbirds, dandelions, sunsets, tickles, kisses, and most of all – your love.
for pulling me out of my literary snobbery.
thank you for sarcasm and wit. for perspective.
thank you for telling me that you envisioned yourself marrying me someday on a sunday morning last november on the beach … even though, now … things have worked out completely differently. i know you meant it then.
thank you for really deciding who you need to be and saying so. you told me the truth even when it was brutally hard; but it was the truth. and my heart knew it. and for telling me the truth, i found compassion and forgiveness.
thank you for asking me to let you go. because i loved you, i did. and i know you asked me to let you go because you loved me, too.
by letting you go, i have reclaimed part of myself, a freedom. by letting you go, i have moved – in many ways – towards a new life with a new set of rules and principles that are my truth. ones that work for me, that shift and soar. this feels good and right.
we are both on separate journeys; yet, you will always be within me: i owe part of the woman i am now to you. without you, i would not have had these experiences. i am stronger, clearer, braver.
you gave me much. even the tough, the feeling of brokenness (which has healed), for the parts you fell short and i fell short: i’m thankful.
now, i know what i need.
what i want.
what i’ll accept.
what i deserve.
i know how to be better. different.
thank you for supporting my dreams and believing in me.
you’ve given me the opportunity to learn to forgive, to practice love unconditionally, for understanding love alone does not make a relationship work.
sometimes love means letting go to allow room for a new growth, a new life, to take root.
thank you for the coffee. for this last year.
i wish for you what it is you wish for … with my whole heart and much love.