So it's Chinese New Year and as in years gone I have gone to Buddha's house. And as every year since the end of that era it's been a little awkward.
He was after all, the highschool sweetheart. The first man I honestly loved enough to want to grow old with. And though we parted on mutual terms. Perhaps there were parts of that goodbye that could have been done with more grace.
In the aftermath, I discovered things about him I would rather not have known. Things that made me doubt certain parts of that puppy love. But no matter. For years now I have considered him no more than an acquaintance. One that meant the world and more to me many moons ago, but nothing more than an acquaintance. For the simple reason that he did not know the woman me, as I did not know him as a man. And for the even simpler reason that I was not interested in knowing the man he was.
But today, with the lion dancers causing the biggest hoi polloi outside his house. I noticed he did not run out with the pure childlike ecstasy that used to engulf such encounters. And as I left I saw in his eyes the sadness of a little lost boy.
Why is it after all these years I can still see the sadness in his eyes? Why do I know still, instinctively, with one glance when something's amiss in his grown up world? And why does my heart still become that little bit heavier in these moments?
Perhaps, despite ourselves, whatever the circumstances, they never really stop mattering.
Perhaps in our heart of hearts all endings are really just commas.
Image courtesy of gudufish on Flickr.
