Goodbye

My brother was over last night, and as we discussed love and life, the subject came up of past loves. A name was mentioned, and I was taken back again as I had been many times over the years.

I think it is human nature to wonder, challenge, and even have second thoughts about the what ifs. what if I had actually finished college? What if I had waited to get married, to have kids. What if I had married HIM......

Him. My first love. All of us have firsts. First kiss, first date, first broken heart. We have these experiences for growth, and lots of times, the end result can suck regardless. That, or we mature enough to move on. Yeah, That's it.

So why did I relive these particular memories? What was this hold 17 years after the fact ( Holy crap, I'm old.....)

Why did I still have all the letters and cards....pictures and journals up in my closet? I knew my husband didn't approve, but yet I held on, desperate to keep it all. I reasoned with myself, that they were apart of my life, my experiences. MY memories. A good part of my life.

Last night, as I was chatting with my brother, I had a realization. They were not MY memories, but the dreams and wishes and hopes of the " Other" guy. The guy that I am not married to, and not IN love with anymore ( although, I will always love what we HAD..does that make sense?)

I read the first letter on top, a letter from me, it was time. I had written to as why I had kept these items, and how I really should have had a cleansing burning of them years ago, but did not feel strong enough to do it. For the first time, I felt strong enough. I felt I needed to to be free of DMC. To move on freely, and LET GO. LET HIM GO CHRISTI. It's time.

So, I poured out the box off letter's into the fire pit, my baby brother beside me, reassuring without having to say a word. I poured the lighter fluid over the written words, the envelopes bearing my name, the ink dripping, I took a deep breath. My brother asked me if I was okay. I said yes. Was I really? I took the lighter, and flicked it on. I didn't hesitate at all then, lighting the corner of several letters. Whoosh....It all went up in flames. I watched the orange flames kick and roar up toward me. I folded my arms across my chest, as if to hold myself up. I shivered while the hot air from the fire licked my face. I took a metal stick and stirred it. 2+ years of letters furiously came to life, curling and fighting back. I saw a drawn heart leap forward, and I nearly reached in to pluck it out, but I refrained. I coddled and tended the fire until all that was left was charred paper. It was done.

As the embers died, I glanced toward my glowing house. Children giggled from inside, dishes waiting to be tended to. Bedtime was drawing near, and tucking and bedtime prayers would be needed.

My brother only needed to give me glance, and his eyes told me he was proud.

When my husband returned home, I took the top piece of the box that bore my first loves name. I took him to the fire pit, showed him the name, then laid it upon the black, withered paper. He looked at me, then down and only asked "Really?" Really, I said. I lit the corner of the name, and all was done. He took me into his arms, and nothing else was said. Without a glance back, he lovingly took my hand, and we walked forward.