Sitting out on a worn and tattered couch, tossed haphazardly amongst the poorly cared for lawn deep in the underbelly of the college-housing district in some town, a party raging inside evolving to its own circadian rhythyms, I nursed a poorly made beverage and watched as the sun began its lazy decent below the horizon. Its rays cast out one final, breathtaking explosion of soundless light, the living painting before me a dynamo of physical processes to complicated for me to comprehend in my self-induced mental repose.
And then, after a moment of gazing towards this sky of wonder, there she was, sitting inexplicably next to me, that same old smile I knew from so long ago, her eyes unaffected by the care I had forced on her, her very visage one of comfort and joy, a virtual negative of my own sliding depression. I’m pretty sure that my mouth must have drooped open and my eyes had belied my surprise.
We talked, about nothing of consequence for a few minutes, gathering comfortable momentum in our conversation until we knew that things would take a turn. Suddenly, the scene around his shifted, melted away until we were in a busy, crowded and non-descript coffee shop, two cups of coffee before us and the conversation resting at our last turn.
Our discussion turned towards the past, towards the mistakes I knew I had made, and all the while I felt the words falling out of my mouth, her smile never dissipated, those comforting eyes never showed any remnants of disdain or sorrow. The scene around us blurred again, but did not shift, as we both became acutely aware of the only thing that mattered at that moment, resigning the past and only moving forward, giving closure to that which had come before. Her smile changed briefly to one of acceptance and forgiveness after my clumsy tirade had finally emptied itself, and she checked her watch, noticing it was time for us to depart once more, this time with no regrets or pain in that now small and almost insignificant thread between us. We parted as friends, and I stole one final glance at those care-free eyes, trying to prove to myself that I had done the right thing, finally free of the regret I had harbored for so many years.
If only those words I desperately needed to say to her could have been said in the real world, if only I truly knew that she understood how sorry I was for the way I had treated her, then my relief, my freedom of regret would be palpable, and not as the fading remnants of the dream I found myself waking from.
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[…] let anyone convince you otherwise, because sometimes dreams really do come true. Posted in Relationships on Saturday, November 3rd, […]