It hits me sometimes
small things. Tiny things.
A word, a smell, a flicker of light.
Suddenly I’m back in a memory so deep I’d almost buried it.
And it hurts
not just because it’s gone,
but because it was real.
Is it nostalgia?
Sentimentality?
Maybe something more like melancholy,
but softer, like a bruise that stopped aching but never actually healed.
I miss it
all of it.
I miss us.
I miss the way we laughed,
the silliness of two people completely, recklessly in love.
But if I’m being honest
I started missing us a year before I ever left.
That ache? It wasn’t sadness.
It was closer to anger.
At what we had become.
It was the quiet heartbreak of knowing what we were losing
and still watching it slip away.
Now, though…
Now I see it all.
The beginning, the middle, the undoing.
And maybe
maybe
one day,
we’ll grow back toward each other in some new way.
But even if we don’t,
we’ll always have those moments.
The real ones.
The joyful ones.
The messy, golden, human ones.
And I’ll miss them.
God, I’ll miss them every day.