Eating cherries from between your fingers is what I remember most from those early summer days. If we stayed out till dusk there was usually a chill to the air and I would lay behind you, my nipples hardening at your closeness, at the freshness of the air. I’d press them into your back, and you’d always sigh-laugh. Like you didn’t know whether to be lustful or exasperated.
You made me love you in those moments, and that’s what made me think about how true love is in moments, and sometimes those moments are with many different people.
I’ve shared true love with the American at the market, when I was sifting through the photo slides and he came up beside me to sift too, and we swapped slides and laughed at their visions through the lenses.
I’ve shared true love with the girl by the seaside in Nice, when neither of us could speak French, but we searched through the stones and looked out at the sea and felt the same awe, and when I stood up to leave we both said goodbye at the same time.
I’m young and I know that true love is the possibility of connection that could be fleeting, that could only last seconds.
And those cherry moments are some of my favourite true loves. Focusing on those made us worthwhile when I wasn’t able to feel good about you. Strange, we met in the summer and us and it were both bright and happy and then the winter came, cold and hard and that’s what we were too.
I was alone and you seemed so unfeeling about it, and I would reach for you anxious and frantic, in a way I knew wasn’t right and you didn’t validate me, so I felt more anxious, more frantic.
And so I let go, and predictably you came back, when I was hazy leaving love letters at my door and skating away. Coming back but still not coming back when I was calling you, so is that even returning? If it’s just always on your own tracks? Not trying to coincide with mine. I can’t respect that.
The first kiss though, glows in my mind. We had spent the whole day walking through the gallery and in the dark exhibitions I had wanted you so electrically to touch, touch my neck, pull me to you. We were watching those dream sequences and I was feeling us dreaming in sync. You wanted me too, to press my lips to your throat. And so sweetly we floated through the day, you walked me to my train. You told me another day that you had planned it so that you would kiss me as my train pulled up, but I started talking and you lost the brusque confidence, and I like that you did. I don’t think I would’ve liked you as much if you had swaggered off.
But when you kissed me, I felt like I was walking on clouds through the train. I know everyone sitting beneath me on the train was smiling at my glow. I was emanating so much I couldn’t help sighing out loud. You kissed me to another state of mind, glory. I’ll remember that kiss that vividly forever.
I’m not going to tell you how it ends because more likely than not you’ll just be disappointed in the fact that we don’t ‘end up’ together. As if that’s what defines the importance of a bond between two people. It should be a well known mantra by now that life is about the journey and not the destination, yet sadly people allow themselves to be stagnant and to ignore a freer way of life. I do end up marrying a different man, and spending the majority of my life with him, until he passes away happily one day, having spent his life living everything he wished with me, and I with him.
The boy ends up having many different special long term relationships and is happy with meeting so many amazing people and happy with not becoming resentful to anyone he’s loved. We both reflect upon our shared early relationship with nostalgic fondness, not because it held many ‘firsts’ but because we were happy together and we helped each other, and watched each other grow and supported each other and only wanted the best for each other. That’s all that a relationship should be, a bond holding so much kindness and compassion that if it has to change there will be no anger and sadness, only ecstasy for what was and what will be for the ones we’ve loved.