What I remember about that first time going to a Discotheque to meet my friends after our break up was my stop at a gas station’s phone booth to call. I had to hear his voice. I had to tell him how difficult it was to resume my life and leave ours behind. I had to let him know that it was not easy, that I wished we could still be together.
I had to tell him that I could not make sense of what was happening. I knew all the reasons why we were not together; why we should not be together, but “the heart knows reasons that reason knows nothing of”. I had to call.
I had surrounded myself with the right people and I told myself how –rightfully- I was better, but it still hurt the same. Accepting that it was better that the person who didn’t love me was no longer in my life didn’t help. It remained difficult.
My time was filled with friends, yet the void remained and more so in holidays than any other time.
Holidays were a reminder that my life and who I spent it with, was different.
Moving on is a challenge; a necessary and many times forced challenge and one that, regardless of the reasons, makes every waking day a struggle, for a while at least.
Time heals, no doubt. Albeit slowly.
Change took place. Healing came. Time archived memories away and new ones of new happy times were formed. Very little remained of that night.
Strong emotions leave a footprint in the memory and the heart. Whether it is good or bad, it finds a way to the surface at certain times if only so briefly. Ocasionally, in major holidays that were important in our lives together, a memory might escape out of that well sealed box of reminiscences and my thoughts fly back to that phone booth…for a second.