Tonight, the flurries of snow reminded me of an experience I had last December while looking out the window of the gym I work out in and about which I think I started a post but never finished it.
As I felt the magic of watching the snow fall onto frosted trees outside the window, I wondered at how it didn't carry the sting of watching alone, from a smelly gym, without 'someone special' and without a home in which I felt completely, totally secure and in my own element, where everything was just right in the world. I realized then that my happy memories filled whatever void I thought should probably be there. I remembered feeling, when I was a child, like all was right and safe and secure in the world because I was home, wrapped in a blanket, with my family, my cat, hot cocoa with sourdough toast, and a crackling fire as the snow swirled beautifully outside. I remembered feeling, as an adult, wholly at peace and at home in the most profound sense with my arms wrapped around someone special whose breathing felt like an extension of me and an affirmation that I was meant to and able to share life as we kept each other warm against the elements.
Rather than missing those days when I felt those things, the memory of them glowed within me, and I smiled at the richness and comfort they brought which I have forgotten or rejected at times. I wished everyone could have such memories but figured many people don't, and I was warmly grateful to have them to cherish and to provide hope for future memories rather than sorrowful that new ones were not presently being created. To lament not having someone special to bundle up with now or no longer being a wide-eyed child in a simpler world seemed petty and ungrateful, and for that moment, I was again a wide-eyed child who had known his fair share of love and warmth.
That perspective will not always be easy to maintain, but when it comes, it's worth remembering.
4 comments:
I've been thinking about this sort of thing a lot lately (as many people probably do when the are recently exited from a relationship). It's true, such perspective is a hard thing to maintain especially in light of the realization that such relationships are quite difficult to attain.
When pressed, though, I suppose I can pause my tantrums and realize the luck I had in possessing such relationships in the first place, even if they didn't last forever.
I love this post. It not only reminds me to be more grateful for the good in my life, but also speaks volumes to the kind of man you are. I so admire your ability to see through current pain and hope for better tomorrows.
Clint, you have my sympathy about the relationship. I know the "better to have loved and lost" quip offers little comfort when feeling bereft, but in that moment in December, and in other times, it has rung true to me.
In hindsight, I see that there is a theoretically better person for me out there than any of my past interests, if only by virtue of mutual willingness and ability to invest in the kind of relationship I ultimately want. And I could learn a thing or two about being more ready for such, so I have not only a quest for personal progress but a desire to remain open to something as great or better than what I've had. If I'm able to find it and invest in it, it'll be pretty darn amazing to have it. If I don't, I have some good memories, and I will have more of other kinds.
Similarly, I can probably never go back to seeing and feeling the world through a child's eyes and mind/'heart'. Maybe I'll have kids one day and can make sure they feel as secure and cozy as I once did. "But if not," maybe the memory of having felt that way can help me let go of present concerns once in a while to just experience wonder and comfort now and then.
I know, I'm, like, so profound and stuff like that, right? *flips hair conceitedly* Ha, just thinking 'out loud': take it or leave it. Thanks for commenting.
Bravone, maybe it speaks volumes to the kind of desperate I am. ;-) Kidding. Thanks.
Hey, here's to our second round of warm wintery nights. Love you.
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