Over Thanksgiving weekend, I got bold.
I asked about you.
Sure, I was worried what people might think of me when I mentioned your name but my curiosity got the best of me and made me braver than usual. Ok, maybe not braver…perhaps a little reckless.
Recently, it occurred to me that the memories I have of you may not be accurate. My head is filled with different jobs I remember you working. Perhaps at one point I thought your job hopping was cool. The spaces in my brain reserved for you focus in on the time we spent together.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, I lost a bit of the hunger I have for you.
You never traveled cross-country in the cab of a big rig. You quit.
You never drove a taxi. It was more of a limo. Either way, you quit.
You never came around.
You stopped calling.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, I missed you a little less.
I hope this doesn’t hurt you. I am not angry. I am not sad. I was given facts and hidden in the truth were flecks of peace.
I have a little more peace. I hope you do too.