They say when one part of your life starts to excel, another part will ultimately crumble. Maybe it’s the way the universe stays aligned and keeps its perfect order that never seems to satisfy anyone for very long. We can’t have all of the things we want just as we want them or we’d never strive for anything, there would be no reason to have a furious fight inside of you. He who is handed it all will never learn what it feels like to work for something, so therefore, he must struggle.
Even so, when things fall apart the heavens have a simple way of keeping us sane – they never let everything that’s important to us to falter at once. Lighting rarely strikes in the same place twice and there is always something, even if it is a tiny unremarkable thing, to help us maintain our dignity and confidence in the world. Sometimes they are in the comforting words of friends ever-so-dear or in the soothing touch of crisp, cold, linen sheets against your bare body. It comes in the form of unexpected billowing winds inside the subway platform or in the support you depend on from someone you may have not known very long, but feel as if you’ve known them forever.
For me lately, my peace has been found in all of the above along with some magical New York moments I can only accredit as blessings sent from places higher than the Empire State, but most significantly, my calm has been instilled by the power of memories.
Mr. Possibility and I have been going through a very difficult period the last month. With our age difference and the fact that we’re at opposing stages of our lives, we’ve been riding the rough waters, attempting to find an anchor to hold us steady so we can sail into bay safely. Anchors aren’t always to be found though, and sometimes taking a breather and some much-needed space is the best thing any couple can do. And so while my career has been flourishing and I couldn’t be more thankful to finally be doing exactly what I always dreamed of doing, the man who helped me through the ups and downs of the last year, isn’t as sturdy as he appeared.
But I do remember when he was. I can recall the exact moment I knew I loved him – way back in January, while talking on Gchat following the Dubai disaster, and something just clicked. We waited a while after that before we made anything officially exclusive but in those times we spent building up our relationship, building up our connection, he couldn’t have been more beautiful to me. He was attractive in a way that made him human – I saw his shortcomings and I knew his downfalls but I chose to love him anyway, to trust him against my better judgement. Time will only tell if my grandiose hopes about him will ring trite-and-true and prove all of those against us, wrong. And maybe, prove myself wrong too.
It isn’t memories of us that grant me a sweet stillness, though. It’s rather in memories of myself.
I remember those weeks when he was far away overseas, only available to me through the wonderous webs of the Internet, where I had no responsibility to him but to reply to an email or arrive on time to a Skype date. I remember when this city was my dating playground, when though I wasn’t very good at disconnecting my expectations from my emotions, I enjoyed seeing New York from various points of view. I remember when I would dream about a love I couldn’t imagine, about having a man admire me just as my father admires my mother. I dreamed of a great love story, of something that wasn’t complicated or difficult, of something that brought me that easy, peaceful feeling instead of making my heart beat so uncontrollably I couldn’t fall asleep until well into dawn. I remember these moments during this journey itself, even when I knew Mr. Possibility, even when he was sitting next to me as I typed, where I longed to be single, where I finally found that strength to throw caution to the wind and take a chance on finding something great – in a man or in myself. I remember taking myself to dinner and to the movies, to the museum and to the cafe, just to sit in the company of myself, watching the city circulate its people with car horns and buses serenading the developing scenes.
I remember when this city was like Spring to me and I, still without my toughness or doubtfulness, believed in the best of people, the best of Mr. Possibility, and the best of myself. It’s realistic now but it will always be closer to extraordinary in my eyes and far from ordinary. Because even with all that’s happened, all that I’ve given that I can’t get back, all the attempts I’ve made that may not turn into anything of significance, I have those memories of what make me me to recall.
And if I can do it all alone once, of course I can do it again. Only this time, I’ll be a little stronger, a little brighter and have more hope for what’s to come. After all, if memory serves me right, I’ve always had the ability to believe that falling in love isn’t limited to the man who lives on the corner of Hope Street and is ripe of possibilities. Love indeed, begins inside of me and because of that, I can find it anywhere I go.