White Horse

I honestly believed in you, holding on. The days drag on. Stupid girl, I should have known. I should have known.
– Taylor Swift, White Horse

I am trying to think of better times. Happier times. (And I’m not sure why I bother).

But for whatever reason, I am thinking about stumbling through old towns in France. Wandering that delicate countryside as we watched your son gallop over grassy knolls on his bike. The one you so caringly inflated the rear tire on. (Where is that tenderness now?)

“I am completely in love with you.” I will never forget how you kissed those words into me as Sean slept between us. I think I responded with, “je t’aime.” (After all, Sean had taught me the correct pronunciation earlier that evening). I loved our cocoon of a family, in that isolated apartment outside of Maincy. The one with the dysfunctional shower. You were far too tall, and I couldn’t properly wash my hair for five days. You enchanted the hell out of me. And I believed every word you said. I wanted to soak up those five days and never look back. I could drown in whatever this was because I had convinced myself that this had to be different than anything or anyone that had ever come along. (Fairytales are fairytales for a reason).

Fields of lavender in Provence. The blue and gold sparks of the sun and sky. Even that afternoon we got caught in that rainstorm. I took Sean’s hand and ran into the nearest coffee shop. (Two hot chocolates and one donut). I could feel the wholeness of it all. The weight of it all. Sean leaning against me. Me leaning against you. (Love must live here).

And that’s when I started to picture it. Our life together. But you helped me, didn’t you? Telling me about building us a house somewhere in California. With a lot of land. Where our two dogs could roam. Future children, perhaps. I wanted to freeze it all. Capture it. Play it over and over again like a tired film reel. (You know, the classic kind of movies. Like Terms of Endearment or Gone With the Wind). I thought about how this feels like somewhere I’ve been before. It is kaleidoscope colors and the salt and sweat that goes into building a future with another human.

It’s quite hard to admit to myself that maybe after all of that, you don’t really care. (Do you?) Because I did fall in love with you quite quickly. Recklessly, almost. Getting stuck in the eye of the hurricane, forgetting the madness that swirled around me. I figured I knew better.

Yet here I am. Holding out for something that will not and cannot be. The pictures in my mind are far too perfect to tarnish with the reality of our situation. Because if I rid myself of them – of our wedding, of sleepless and sex-filled nights, of falling in love with a better person every single day – then I have to admit to myself that I am a fool. That I am just another broken heart. That I was and am wrong about everything about us. (Love never lived here, after all). And I am just not ready for the weight of that truth yet.