“All these years I’ve had a story in my mind, the story about us that never really existed. And because of that story, I’ve kept you framed up on the wall in a little box of nostalgic moonlight.” ~ Cathleen Schine, The Love Letter
You and I went away once, to Puerto Rico – a Wednesday through a Sunday kind of trip. We were not alone though. We had a whole group traveling with us, mixed genders, but no actual couples. We were all merely friends, vacationing together under the warm sky of Puerto Rico.
Our friend, P, had a sweet deal with the hotel. The Ritz Carlton, no less. Our group of nearly twenty, divided among five rooms, for about $25 a night.
I stayed close to you, like a shadow. I made sure to be paired in the same room as you, and when it came time to choose a partner for the scooters we rented, I made sure that you had no choice but to pick me to ride behind you. I held onto you as we rode through Old San Juan, and as we passed through the cobblestone streets, I had wished that you were mine.
At night, we ate and drank, laughed and danced, and talked as if there no were yesterdays or tomorrows. We swam in the hotel pool and walked on the beach. We took pictures together, our smiles framed by the gorgeous backdrop of Puerto Rico.
Sunday came too soon, and it was time to leave and go back to reality. On our last day, we stopped at El Yunque, and you took pictures of me and our friend, M. You even gave me your photo roll and asked me to develop the photos. When I picked up the photos, I saw that you had taken several shots of me. My heart swelled with happiness.
But we were back home. While the magic and chemistry still flowed strongly through me, it had all but left you. You were distant and far, and I knew then that I could never have you.
We remained friends throughout the years, but mostly because I persisted and kept maintaining contact. You were simply too polite to just not respond.
I contacted you recently, after having lost touch for many years. We texted briefly about the trip we took in Puerto Rico. You had mentioned that it was a great, memorable trip. And just like when we had returned from Puerto Rico, you became distant, and just like before, I was left wondering why.
You are like that bright star in the sky, the one that hangs low, so low that one could almost feel as though they can reach you, but just like all the other stars in the sky, I can aim to reach you, but I will never actually be able to catch you.