memories are all I have

Dear John
Prologue

What does it mean to truly love another?

There was a time in my life when I thought I knew the answer: it meant that I’d care for Savannah more deeply than I cared for myself and that we’d spend the rest of our lives together. It wouldn’t have taken much. She once told me that the key to happiness was achievable dreams, and hers were nothing out of the ordinary. Marriage, family… the basics. It meant I’d have a steady job, the house with the white picket fence… Two or three kids, she was never clear on that, but my hunch is that when the time came, she would have suggested that we let nature take its course and allow God to make the decision. She was like that--- religious, I mean --- and I suppose that was part of the reason I fell for her. But no matter what was going on in our lives, I could imagine lying beside her in bed at the end of the day, holding her while we talked and laughed, lost in each other’s arms.

Part of me aches at the thought of her being so close yet so untouchable, but her story and mine are different now. It wasn’t easy for me to accept this simple truth, because there was a time when our stories were the same, but that was six years and two lifetimes ago. There are memories for both of us, of course, but I’ve learned that memories can have a physical, almost living presence, and in this Savannah and I are different as well. If hers are stars in the nighttime sky, mine are the haunted empty spaces in between, and unlike her, I’ve been burdened by question I’ve asked myself a thousand times since the last time we were together. Why did I do it? And would I do it again?

Now, at twenty nine, I sometimes wonder about the choices I’ve made. I don’t know whether I should be pissed or pleased about the facts; most of the time, I find myself going back and forth, depending on the day. When people ask, I tell them I’m a grunt, and I mean it.
Our story has three parts: a beginning, a middle, and an end. And although this is the way all stories unfold, I still can’t believe that ours didn’t go on forever.

I reflect on these things, and as always, our time together comes back to me. I find myself remembering how it began, for now these memories are all I have left.