I Still Care For You

LuckyBroad

It’s  a blustery winter day and I’m walking through a department store to avoid being out in the cold. I happen to be in the men’s department, and there is a gigantic sale. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a blue/green t-shirt with a Pacman on it. The next thought that enters my head shocks me: “Wow, Ex would love that shirt”.

My responsibility for dressing my Ex-Husband ended over two years ago now. And yet still, these little reminders slip in every now and then, like somewhere deep in my subconscious I’m still programmed to be his  wife. It happened the other day when Ex’s birthday rolled around; it reminded me of how much he loved his birthday and how I always made such an effort to celebrate it with him and his family. It happens to various other Ex’s too. I’ll be walking through a store, and remember someone’s favorite salad dressing, or the fact that they didn’t like ginger on their food, or how they can’t stand mayonnaise. Note – these are three different men I’m referring to above, and yet I remember a detail from all of them that for whatever reason, I can’t seem to let go.

I’ll admit that I harbor. I harbor feelings of sentimentality or longing way beyond when most people should. I don’t attach to things, and carry very few objects that remind me of my past. In the absence of belongings I carry details that get triggered at the easiest moment. All it takes is walking by a place where an event occurred (it happened twice last week at a subway stop I don’t often frequent), recognizing a smell (baking powder, in my most recent example) or a movie (*sigh* Love Actually).  All of these occurrences brought about a fond memory or two. Sometimes they are painful, because of what happened in the relationship, but mostly I just look at them with fondness. Truthfully, when I think about relationships past, the sign of success (even if the relationship wasn’t one) is that I can carry the memories and smile when I think about them. Sometimes it doesn’t happen right away, but the hope is that eventually, I’ll get there.

I still care for almost all the men that have played an important role in my life. In some cases, it’s even with people who have treated me quite shabbily. It doesn’t mean that I’m not angry or resentful; I’m those things, too. But I trust enough in myself to know that if I cared, then it was because there was enough good in that person worth caring about. The ending may be pretty far from fairytale, but somewhere in the story it was worth the telling. I don’t fault myself for caring, or for having these little trips of nostalgia. They aren’t a reflection on my current relationship and they aren’t a sign that I want to go back. Rather, I take them as little pieces that I’ve collected along the way; I store them in my memory box, and I bring them out whenever I need them.

For the most part, I’m glad to have them.

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