• Hindsight is 20/20

    by  • June 22, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Lost Love • 0 Comments

    Today, being back in the state, I decided to visit a part of town I haven’t been near in a while. It seemed to me everything was exactly the same. I stopped at that Mcdonalds to grab something (you know, the one we would stop at before we saw a movie) and sat in a little booth in the far corner, out of the way. There was a man sitting in the seat you sat in last time we were there together, I realized I still remember, even if it was two years ago. No one sat across from him, in the place where I had sat.

    At first I remembered the toddler that ran up to us to show us his happy meal toy, and your smile as you looked at me, and how we walked out holding hands…but only for a second. Then I remembered the way you walked up to the counter and ordered for both of us, asking me if that was ok as we walked to our seat. You had gotten me a large and I couldn’t finish my meal, but you refused to leave the restaurant until I finished; I thought it was a joke at first until I made to get up. You pulled my tray back to the table with that look in your eye, and I knew you weren’t. You finally ate the last bite and I had to hear you complain about how I don’t appreciate it when you spend money on me.

    I remember how I had to keep reaching for your hand as we left because you pulled away the first two times. We were almost late for the movie. Which was obviously my fault.

    That night as I fell asleep, I thought I was lucky to have you.

    Now every night as I fall asleep, I don’t think about you at all. And I enjoy every minute of it.

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