turning back, she just laughs . . .

...we meet up for a solitary evening. It’s very romantic, like an old French movie. We have too many differences to make it work. I regularly remember things you and said while we are together and I cannot believe I put up with it, yet I still love you. I no longer wonder every day if we will end up together. I know we won’t. One of us would have to change too much. So we just spend a day or a night together, or both, but never more than that. We don’t talk about anything that will spoil that time. We discuss movies, books, music, work, all the things we adore about each other... but not much else. Wouldn’t want to veer into a topic that would remind each other of why we can’t be together. I don’t ask if you’re back with her, you don’t ask if I’m serious with him. We’re in an alternate universe where life’s important details change nothing, a space where we can just show each other enough love and affection to make it through until the next time. Life together would not be possible, but this other dimension is ours. We exchange gifts for no reason, we go for a walk in the park, we eat a lavish dinner, we make love, we talk until we can’t keep our eyes open. The next day, we get up and go back to our lives. Our wonderful lives. It’s hard to be sad when things are going so well, and yet, I still gaze at the door of every room I am in, waiting for you to walk through it.

Elizabeth Gilbert