On this day, two years ago, I had just spent the most amazing afternoon catching up with a dear friend from high school. I was feeling nostalgic and happy. It was dusk in LA and I was sitting at a bar in West Hollywood having dinner alone.
You called. Our relationship was new and I wasn't sure how ready I was to give in to it. I didn't answer. You still gave me butterflies; so I was excited when you left me a message. I listened to it immediately. And alone at a table in a courtyard surrounded by tinseltown strangers, I laughed out loud. I listened to it several more times and smiled bigger on each one.
It was that exact moment, two years ago today, when my heart knew I loved you - though it took my brain a few months to catch up. At the time, I'd been holding onto someone shallow and unattainable as a defense against getting close to anyone. He became an easy control against which I could compare what I was really feeling for you. The more evidence I saw to choose, to jump in, to be loved, the harder I looked for reasons not to. I suppose that's what wounded hearts do.
Tonight, I listened to your message for the first time since you left it. The feelings came back immediately. The familiarity. The genuine appreciation of you and all that you were. The sense of knowing. The surety with which I called Lauren and told her, "I think I could fall in love with him." A perfect, storybook moment.
That was a long time ago. I was surprised to remember everything so vividly. But, I suppose that is what wounded hearts do.