Reminded

Although I don't officially move until the first weekend of May, I've been taking the time lately to go through all of the stuff I've accumulated in the past 25 years. Yesterday, I took on my desk: This gorgeous, real wood, roll-top number that I got when I was probably about 8. The insides of the drawers still smell like the original new desk smell.

That desk has certainly seen it's fair share of stuff, so yesterday I set about cleaning out the bottom drawer. I've always considered it my "file" drawer, where all my old papers and stories and journals and stuff went. I'm sure you'll see some of my former work resurface here.

I came across an old journal from college and opened to a random page. And stepped back in time, to the first semester of my junior year (that would be late 2001, for those of your keeping score). I read the pages greedily, and then found myself flipping the pages to the front part of the journal and starting over again. I am grateful that I took the time to chronicle that part of my life; even if reading it reminded me of sadder times.

The page that I randomly flipped to detailed the break up with my college boyfriend, Joe. I was very much in love with him at the time that I'd written the entry - and the one after that, and the one after that.... Some of the pages were a little smeared with long since forgotten tears. Sometimes, the script was hastily scrawled, as if I'd been rushing to commit my thoughts to paper. Other times, it was very neat and measured; I must have put a lot of thought into those entries. In the early part of the journal, there was happiness, giddiness, excitement. An overwhelming outpouring of emotions that were too big, too much for the pages. At the end, there was pain, and bitterness. Grief. Loss.

But as I continued reading past the break up and the disintegration of the friendship that followed, the entries about or pertaining to Joe became less and less frequent. The journal started taking the shape of my life that year - where I'd gone, the men I'd dated, the friends I'd had. I'm not sure what facilitated the healing of my heart, whether it was time passing or the gradual mellowing of my feelings. The last few entries didn't mention him at all.

It was good to be reminded of our relationship. I remembered how much I'd hurt when it ended. But I also remembered how much and how deeply I had loved this person. To be able to read about my life at that time, to think about Joe and what transpired between us - good and bad - to be able to look back on it fondly and without regret is truly a gift. There is no more pain, bitterness, grief or sense of loss. Only the knowledge and happiness that he has a good life now, and a hope that it will continue.

I smiled to myself, thinking back on that time. And then I put the journal away in a safe place. It won't come with me when I move. It will stay in a box at my parents' house, gathering dust but not forgotten. Waiting for me to be reminded again.