ESB

So this has been four years since then.

It took me four full years to be able to actually sit down with my feelings and look back on that particular week, and write about what it was all about. It took me four years, one trip to Barcelona, one trip back to the exact same city where it all happened, and a number of emotionally unavailable men that I unsuccessfully recruited to replace you.

What I did not expect is that I would come back to that same corner of the world and be able to remember more from that particular week than I thought I did. Perhaps I actually do remember more than bits and pieces of what happened, but my selective memory chose only the painful ones so I could move on more easily. Little did I know that by coming back, by seeing the same surrounding hills (minus the snow), by seeing the same buildings, same demure architecture of boring old government buildings, my memories of the good parts would be evoked.

My memory came back. Only the good parts. And I smiled.

What I did not expect is that I smiled. I was expecting to cry while listening to the same playlist you showed me on the way back from the short trip. But no. I was smiling as the bus took me to the one spot in the city that I specifically mentioned to you I wanted to check out but you did not take me. Perhaps I've come to terms with the way things are. Perhaps I've accepted that I'm the villain in that particular chapter of our lives. Perhaps, like so many Hollywood movies, you and I were supposed to go through the growing pains of dating a million assholes until we meet the one we'll stick with, and in your movie, I am one of those assholes.

I always knew the city can be cold and the people beautiful. But that day - that very day, it was warm. The golden hour washed over me and beautifully shine on the caramel stone and marbles. I am grateful that I met you. That such encounter led me to this city. That I learned so much about what my heart was capable of - of what she really desires - from the brief, but extremely valuable time that we shared.

I didn't know where you were at that exact time. You were probably working from the couch while cuddling the dog. Or washing your car. Or running errands. Or doing laundry. I did not even know which part of the town you took me to. Which mall. Which restaurants. Which neighborhood your old guys live in. I wondered what they were up to, but took comfort in knowing that they cannot be at the place that I was visiting. I whispered to the air, "Thank you." Hoping that you and your family can feel it through the air. I loved you so much. Maybe I will always do; in various other ways. You were the main character of a certain chapter in my life, and even though you are no longer in the books, you will always be there somewhere, sitting in a small but treasured corner of my life that I will never stop being thankful for.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for realizing that I've moved from constantly feeling stung by a bee at the slightest thought of you, to being able to come back there and smile a relieved smile because I've known you. I don't think you'll ever read any of these words I've written for you, but hopefully, the air will send you my thank you whenever you come back home.

Thank you.