Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on story.
Our story started as two young moms, with two young kids.
Our story started over family, surviving, and complaining.
Our story started with trepidation, nerves, and some second thoughts.
And then it bloomed and blossomed and what we created was magical.
We created love and wholeness and friendship and need.
We entered each other's lives just as we needed to, or at least, as I needed.
Because I really needed you and your entire family.
So so much so that I let it go, I let a lot of it go.
So so much that I got lost in you.
But I'm not even a little bit upset about that, I wanted so desperately to get lost in you.
I wanted, needed, too much, to have you be a part of my story.
I'm so so sorry I tried that hard.
I stayed too long.
I was too much.
I allowed too much.
I put up with too much too.
And then, just like that, it was over.
Our story was over.
I have been told that it ended also out of need.
I have been told that it ended because it needed to.
I have been told that the way I miss you is normal, and I have been told that it's time to put this all to rest.
I have been told that our story is in the past and I need to move on.
Everyone is right.
But, our story meant something to me and I want you to know that.
I mourned us.
I cried at every single turn.
I still do, at times but it's hitting me less and less now.
I understand it's over...our story is over.
It's in the past, we're a thing of the past.
Our story is a thing of the past.