Guest blog: The goodbye we deserved

Picture by the awesome Stuart F Taylor

Places can have a really special resonance in our lives. When I travel around my hometown, I can’t help but remember different locations by the sexy things I used to do there. Sometimes the simple act of visiting a particular place is enough to bring back a flood of memories. And often, just reading about the resonance certain places have for other people is enough to send me off on a mental journey through all the places I once loved and fucked. This week’s guest blog, by Lauren, is a gorgeous story about exactly this, and it made me cry.

The goodbye we deserved

I’ve always loved special reminders: a song you love because you can’t forget the goofy dance I did to it; the cork to the first bottle of wine we shared; a bookmark you got me because I’m always forgetting where I left off. But thanks to you, I now have the ultimate, most unforgettable reminder.

Thanks to you, I have the castle.

It was never memorable. Simply another thing in the same place I lived. Something I drove past on the way to catch the train, or grab a loaf of bread. Now, every time I’m close it leaves me breathless, it’s magical. Historical, magnificent and remarkably you.

I never knew how special one seemingly insignificant place could be to me. I could never imagine the contrast of our outings there.

When you asked me to meet you there before you moved, I never understood why. It was public and open and impersonal – families learning about the history of their homes, an old couple feeding the birds scattered about. A beautiful place to walk around, taking in the views of the town we shared, so you could say your goodbyes and leave when you wanted. When you had your closure.

As you walked away I stayed there, confused and silently crying. Didn’t I deserve more as a goodbye? We spent the most amazing summer of our lives together. We were best friends, partners in crime. Our time warranted something so much more personal.

The second time you led me there in the rain in the middle of the night, pulling me eagerly by the hand, I knew this was now our place. As you pushed me up the cold stones of the silent paths, one hand buried in my hair, your mouth at my neck, fingers buried inside me, it took everything I had to keep quiet. This was the goodbye I needed, the goodbye we deserved.

Desperate and connected, pressed tight against that lonely tree trunk, it didn’t matter who could see or hear us. All I knew was you. You were there. You were mine. If only for a minute more.

And as I write this, sat there on the steps where you once left me crying, I smile. The sadness of you leaving ebbs away, replaced with the memory of your lips against mine, the smell of you wrapped around me. You’re always here. And I know, someday, you’ll come find me here again.

I’ll be waiting.

1 Comment

  • Phillip says:

    I have been blessed/cursed with a photographic memory. No, I can’t remember the whole page of the dictionary or even decide what to remember. Memories are like images to me. I am a photographer. Go figure. If something decides to stick I can remember the smallest detail. I have to be careful to not dwell as perhaps I may start to embellish a bit. I don’t want to do that. Memory can bring you to your knees and make you cry. I moved from where I grew up long ago. Over fifty years. Yet some of it remains frozen in place in my mind forever. Fortunately some of the best memories include old girlfriends. Of coarse they are not old.

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