Time to Let Go at Time Square

I somehow found myself at Time Square on a Wednesday evening.  The snow was falling softly as if to just say, “No, the cold isn’t over, but don’t worry: This won’t hurt.”  The flakes attached to my hair like baby spiders on a web.  I pulled my scarf up into a hood, a trick I’ve learned from watching the girls in the city on the colder days.  I would have never thought it could make such a difference to cover one’s neck from the cold.  

It was below freezing, but it felt warmer.  The people buzzed with heat around me, and I walked around without my gloves or stuffing my hands into my pockets.  Instead, I held my hands out to catch the curious falling stuff from the sky.  I was in one of those moods that made me wonder what the “first people” thought when they first saw snow.  

At Time Square, one realizes why this is called the city that never sleeps.  Screens lit up the streets, and the light and dark danced so that one couldn’t tell where day began or night started.  It’s difficult to track time at Time Square.  Ironic. Yes.   I pressed my lips together.  They’re a little stickier than normal because of the lip stick.  I am not good with choosing colors—especially when it comes to make up.  However, this color was called Speak Louder, so without even trying it on, I bought it.  I might write a lot, but I just don’t feel like I’m loud enough.  Not. Even. Close.

 I found a coffee shop that poured a hot chai tea into these cleverly textured mugs.  I sat next to the window, and I let myself think about my relationships.  I am still trying to figure it all out.  I love love and have no bitterness, I just like to think about it.  I think all of my wild travel adventures have trained my soul to be able to handle living in the moment—or in this case loving in the moment—while still being able to let go when it’s over.  And actually, one of the things I learned from my college boyfriend is to appreciate and enjoy when the one you love tells you he loves you.  And that’s it.  I can now appreciate that for what it is.  I can be loved today, and not worry if I will be loved tomorrow.  It’s a hard-trained skill that I’m still perfecting.  

In my last relationship, I’ve never felt so loved when I was with someone than when I was with him.  And I thought of the future often, more than I should have, but I also appreciated every second that I was given.  And I don’t think I could have done much better than I did when it came to living and loving with all I had while I could.

Still… I think I’m a bit disappointed in how I’ve let someone go when I was so strongly attached to that person.  I wonder if I’m really just skilled at letting the precious things come and go in my life or if I’m just a weak lover.  Then again, it’s hard to be the passionate romantic who won’t let go of the person they love without becoming the strangely clingy and creepy ex-girlfriend that annoyingly won’t take no for an answer when the end has come.  I’m really afraid of becoming the latter, but at the same time, I was that one girl in class defending the love and passion of Heathcliff and Catherine.  Everyone else in class had thought they were just another unhealthy relationship, while I had thought the two lovers had found a loving connection that they would hold onto through love and life and death and anything else.  Wasn’t that romantic?

My class from two years ago is shaking its head.

Whatever.  I still think a vase should have been thrown or an article of clothing burned at the end of a relationship.  Some broken porcelain, I think, would have done me wonders at the time. Really, though, Wuthering Heights is beautiful to me. I would rather be tormented with the love of my life through all sorrows and ecstasies… I would ask to be haunted if that was the only way I could be near someone…than just let something good slip away because it’s the “right” thing to do…

Says the girl who just, poof, let a good one get away.  

We were made up of the strong stuff.  Of the good stuff: Mountains. Corn fields. Hazelnut coffees. Secrets. Los Angeles. Fears. Drives with the sunrise. Plans. Cabins in the woods. Ambitions.

And then all it took was a phone call. 

And all of the strong stuff is suddenly stuff I need to let go.  

I looked up at the sky. The snow was falling freely last night at Time Square.  I sighed, realizing all of the good stuff, well, I needed to let it go, let it fall freely.  My eyes tracked the tufts of snow as it fell to the ground and melted into a void of ugly black slush.  I cringed as I realized the good stuff would eventually follow the snow’s demise.  It would all just have to melt away…

I am learning more about myself through every relationship.  I’m learning more about what I’m looking for in a man.  And one thing I’ve figured out over the last few weeks is that, well, I could use a little more Heathcliff in my life.  Bring on the passion.  Bring on the unconditional.

Catching Ghosts

Catching Ghosts

A kiss for shame