I fix my first lovely cup of coffee ( as I do every morning) and when I add my caramel creamer, I was taken back to mornings where I was not alone, where I shared not only my coffee, but my thoughts and a few tokes while bonding with someone I miss more  than is healthy for me.

Between drinking my morning motivation and attempting to motivate my teenagers for school, I scan my phone, previewing emails and perusing Facebook.(Usually, something I read or see inspires me to write).  This morning, as usual, Facebook notified me of my memories. I love this part of my morning because it gives me the opportunity to see what I was doing years before on this date. But, this morning it has me in a mindset that I know( because my brain tells me so) I should avoid(my heart can’t help it). I am feeling a bit of nostalgia.

Nostalgia, according to Google, is ” a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations.”  

This morning I am feeling nostalgic for a place and a person that is not for me to go back to. I long for those quiet mornings in my tent, drinking my coffee sweetened with chocolate and caramel, having a cup with him. He shares with me the sweet,enjoyable taste and smell of any variety of high grade kush. We enjoyed peace, quiet, and a morning buzz. No one else in the camp is out and about. We have this time alone and we sip our coffee and toke on my pipe and have the best private conversations. On occasion this would lead other things but these mornings were always my favorite.

I remember thinking it was sweet and awesome that he would call me first thing every morning making sure I was up making coffee and to have this time together. I felt special knowing he was also the last person we both spoke with before going to sleep at night. I knew then and had for a long time that I loved him. I think maybe I still do. I knew  he did not feel quite the same way. But I hoped that maybe he did but was just afraid or not ready. I hoped that maybe one day our friendship and bond would grow and he would eventually come to realize that we were meant to be.

That is where the nostalgia ends. I haven’t spoken to him in months.I have come home to my children where I should be and he is still out there on the road. I hear from others that he is with someone else. This time it is supposed to be serious. I left because logically, even though I love him, I love me more. But I miss him. I miss the good parts of him. I know he is not for me. I know he is not ready for the type of life I am ready for. I have responsibilities. I have goals. I am settled and have things to do.

I hate nostalgia. It is an evil demon of a memory that disguises itself as a pleasantry that serves only to cause more pain as it subsides. It causes you see that reality is painful. It makes you miss things that you know you don’t really miss. It makes the hole in your heart larger and slower to heal. It makes you sad and not happy. The mere definition of it is a liar. “Happy associations” is a misleading phrase. The times were pleasant but then the association causes you to remember why it all changed.You may long to be there again, but you can’t go back.

I had hoped it would end a better way. I had hoped that he would eventually realize that I am the one. I had grand illusions and was so in love. I miss him. I love him. I will always love him. He will be the greatest love of my life. He is not the one that got away, but I like to fancy myself as the one that got away from him. I will love him forever.

I made the right choice. It wasn’t even a choice really.It was good to be with him and I wish him only the best. I will always be here for him. But I must continue with my life and hope that he is growing and learning as well. Maybe one day…

Nostalgia is not my friend this morning. She is a cold heartless bitch who serves only to remind me that my heart is still not healed. She comes back, on occasion to let me know that once I was in a happy safe place. She comes to haunt me and try to rip the positivity from my life. I won’t let her. Today, nostalgia is merely my muse and a demon that I will not let steal my focus.





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