It's the cursed St Valentine's Day (or, as I fondly refer to it - St Valentine's Day massacre). Perfect timing for seeing the greatest love of my life sauntering down the sidewalk towards me - I'm caught. His face lights up, like it always does when he sees me, and for a brief moment that old pang takes over my senses.
"Hello kitten," he greets me like no time has passed, like we are still in the throes of love. As if he could just say those words and whisk me off to a warm and comfortable place I missed with an ache that wouldn't quit. But he couldn't, because we had moved on. He'd found another and married her. And I, well I had just found a succession of lame replacements to the man I knew had been 'the one'. Today, of all days, to see that radiating smile. Those magnetic hazel eyes....it was if fate had saved this particular slap in the face for my most vulnerable moment.
Two years previous, on this most celebrated holiday of lovers, he had proposed to me. And I had turned him down. I said no to that warm comfortable place I had called mine for so long. I just wasn't ready for that much commitment, because of past indiscretions of past lovers. He never gave me a reason to doubt him, but my vulnerable and raw self was just not able to accept his offerings. And so I had broken his heart and left him holding his future in a velvet box. He had moved on and found someone who was ready. But at this moment, hearing his voice and seeing that smile, I forget all of that and find myself in his embrace. And the smell of him, the way I fit so perfectly in his arms, reminds me of all that I lost. All that I willingly let go. Fresh tears arise and I can do nothing. I've lost a battle within myself. At this precise moment, I would give anything to return to that space of time two years ago and say YES! But time doesn't work out like that, and some mistakes never stop hurting.