…uilty for the story that had unraveled in Colorado, even though time took off its pants to moon us. We reclaimed what had been rightfully ours since that first day he happened to plop down next to me in that phycology course: the ability to find joy in the simple fact that we existed and there was a connection we couldn’t exactly explain or name that radiated between us.
So, once again, he and I completed a circle. We were good at that, at some points in the trip, I imagined that we were crossing the paths of our former selves, always waving hello and goodbye. I started having urges to leave myself notes in places I knew I was bound to come back to–places I didn’t feel finished with yet–as though some string that I could feel but not see was tugging at me.