schweblog

It’s strange how symbolic a move can be. I spent the weekend finishing up with the last of the packing and moving process. I love the new place, but there’s something missing. And that something, of course, is the presence of the person that I had been living with for over three years. I was used to all of it–the smell, the noise, the chiding when I left a mess on the stove. It’s all gone now, quiet and lonely in my new place…cold and not quite as welcoming. The final bond is severed. There’s nothing–not even something as abstract as an apartment lease–holding us together now.

People tell me that it will be easier as time goes on and I really don’t have any doubt about that. But I won’t get over her. You don’t “get over” people. You move on. In the great canvas that is your life, the people that you have relationships with leave marks–some of them are graceful, careful strokes. Others are dark blotches that are just as permanent as the rest, indellibly marked in your life. You can go onto other parts of the canvas, but the strokes left behind by people of the past will always be there. And in the case of an invested relationship–a person that was at the center of your canvas–it’s virtually impossible not to notice. And to remember.