Into the Mist

I think that I saw you today. I think that it was you. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, I don’t know. Yet, I guess that it is possible that my stubborn mind was testing my resolve, attempting to see if I am really ready to purge the past…finally. Maybe, my thoughts were hopeful that I have finally accepted that the future is where I belong. And then again, maybe my thoughts are stubbornly naïve. Maybe my reminiscences do not realize that I will never move ahead without carrying the ragged, fading, hobo bundle that I prefer to haul over my shoulder as I meander through the years that lie before me.
 I am neither happy nor annoyed that you still pirouette through my memories as if I have no choice but to watch you, because in truth…I don’t. Some memoirs are meant to be embellished, but not ours. We wrote our epitaph on the peak of an undiscovered mountain, brilliantly glowing in its purity, then, we parted, each of us knowing that you and I had climbed as high together as we would ever go. The swirling mists carried us away from each other into the far unknown mysteries. I have no sorrow…no regret…of our assent into love.
I think that I saw you today. I think that it was you. I couldn’t help but to play some old memories, smile for a bit, then, tuck you back into my hobo pack, very carefully trying to be gentle. Then I walked through my front door to conquer other peaks that are still within my reach.
I hope that you don’t mind that there are still times when I listen for your voice while standing atop another woman’s mountain.
But, then again…isn’t that what you always expected? 
Take care.