Thoughts on lost love.

With each person that we allow in, we exchange small pieces of each other. These then become a part of us forever.
Words have no part in it as those are of the mind. But to have gone without love, to avoid the pain, means remaining small inside. Smaller than we could or should be.

To close up or hold on desperately to the hope for change, means never knowing what might have been, what might have been just around the bend.

It is in our old age that we can bring out all of our pieces and smile again, shed a few tears again, and know again the racing heartbeat, the tingle of touch, the salty taste of goodbye.

Time will have sweetened the kisses and softened the blows. Loving means being swept up in a cauldron of emotions, both good and bad. Once the turbulence subsides, we are not diminished but are more experienced for the next relentless sweep of life.

Later on, on a park bench watching life happen to others, I want to have many pieces to pass the hours with. The bitter-sweet will be as treasured as the great successes.

After all, it is just as much fun to reflect on the 'almost' as on the 'sure things' in life.