Wednesday, December 21, 2005

The Cost of Doing Business

For some reason I think, maybe, that she’ll be waiting for me on my stoop some day when I come home from work. (There is no indication that she’d ever do that, in fact I don’t think she’d dare do that. She’s too respectful of my decision.) And if that happened I wouldn’t know what to say to her. What would she say? You see, this is the problem: why am I even entertaining this? I need to get out of my head what my imagination would like to happen in the film version of my life. It’s not real. It’s not true. Here’s what is: I am heartbroken and sad. Friends have encouraged me to be angry with her. Their thinking is that either I’ll grow out of sadness by replacing it with another equally powerful emotion or that I should just move on to the next step in the mourning process. But I’m not mad at her. I think everyone, including her, would prefer it if I was. I’ve grown past the age of pettiness. I wish her well. I mean, how can you wish bad things on someone you love? It doesn’t make sense to me. I’m mourning not what could have possibly happened between us, but instead the Emmy shaped hole left in my life.


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