Picture this. Ten years from now, you’re sitting in a big
house, all white picket fence and porch swings. Ten years ago
you swore you’d be living in a big city with her by your
side but something happened along the way and you watched as
those plans disintegrated in the palms of your hands. You watch
the sunrise and you watch the sunset and you wonder if
she’s somewhere on the other side of the planet like she
promised. “I gotta get out of here,” she said,
“it doesn’t matter how I do it or where I go,
I’m getting out.”
Picture this. Twenty years from now, you find your first grey
hair. You dutifully have that middle aged panic attack that
everyone seems obliged to have and you screw up your eyes and
pull it out. Your life is pretty steady now: good, calm, like
you’ve finally figured things out. “I’m
getting old,” you grumble. And somewhere, at the back of
your mind, you wonder if she’s getting old too.
Picture this. Fifty years from now your hair is like snow (if
you have any, that is). Your walking stick is your new best
friend and memories seem to flit in and out of your head like
clouds in the sky. Most days you can’t remember what you
had for breakfast or what you’ll have for tea, and some
days it’s beginning to hurt to breathe. It’s on
these occasions, when your chest is heavy and you have to sit
down, that you remember her. You think how true it is that you
don’t forget the people you loved when you were young.
You may not remember yesterday’s weather but you remember
the fifty year old summer breeze and complaining about her hair
in your face. “I wonder if she’s happy,” you
say, and people mistake it for mindless rambling. “I hope
she found what she was looking for.”
Lil_lamb · 5 years ago
this quote still fvcks me up
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