Jane releases Trent

Have you ever forgotten about someone until you suddenly became vitally important to them?


It's kind of surreal.


I don't delete contacts very often. 
I think if I had my druthers I'd be friends, or at the very least, acquantances with just about everyone. 
I have an annoying desire to cheer up the world.
That is quite a responsibility.

But for whatever reason, I can't even tell you what came over me, I scrolled through the contacts in my phone and deleted several.  No animosity or malice of any kind, just people I never talk to who are contacts on Facebook and I figured if for some reason we ever did need to get in touch there would always be that.

Facebook has been responsible for more of my love life than I'd care to admit.
But I kind of love it for that.
<3 FB <3

So this girl I haven't talked to in eons, I deleted.
And as Fate would find it, she texted me the very next day.
First text in many, many months.

The only reason I even figured out it was she who was those nine numbers was because she asked me a question about a certain boy. 
A boy I introduced her to. 
A boy she'd had quite a love affair with this past year.

I really do possess skills to pair up others.
It's strange the way those skills refuse to inverse.

As with most love affairs theirs had ended and alongside the standard pool of tears and confusion.
The Why's and the How's and the fear of letting go.
The poor thing was heartbroken and reached out to me because I was there for their beginning.
I felt really special and honored to be who she chose to confide in.

Surely we would have been best friends in high school had our birthdays not landed 14 years apart.
She reminds me of the me who knew nothing of pure heartache nor the powerful endurance of love.
Every word she uses to describe her feelings are words I've uttered myself.

Losing a love must be the harshest ache our hearts can barely handle.

And no words I offer can truly console her because some aches don't need words.
They need love reflected in eyes.
And in certain times, at certain hours of the night, only one pair of eyes would do.
The very pair you shant look upon.
And so, water lines the corners of your own.

To witness a heartache in someone else when I still register that very feeling within my own gut is overwhelming.
I feel such sympathy for her.
And such relief that I am no longer in such a state of mourning.

The beautiful thing about pain, the thing no one ever explains when you're crying buckets of blood is that the pain is truly sweet.  The pain, if endured, strengthens.  It coats the once raw heart with wisdom and determination.  To love means the lover is capable.  Where one exits, another follows.

Always.

Eager hearts wait in the wings.

I stumble upon them every time I finally take a step forward and stop looking back at what is no longer there.

But it takes time to take those steps.
And my dear young friend will dance them in her own meter, in her tempo.

She awakened within me a resilience.
A belief that we shall endure.
Our love, though it may change forms, lives.

Whether we delete them.
Or they block us.

Life has it's way.
Fate, it's timing.

And we, our smiles.
For all that awaits.

Look up.
New eyes await to see you.