Past feels like blurry watercolor, not like the history of real people

By David McElroy · March 22, 2019

I hadn’t seen the picture in a long time. When I saw it, there was a long moment when it felt like a picture of people I didn’t know.

But that was me. That was her. How long ago? Nine years? Maybe 11? I don’t remember. It might have been something from another life. Or something in a vision. Maybe a dream.

We were in Chicago — visiting her family — but my memory of it was blurry. Who exactly was she? Who had I been? I was left digging through my memories and trying to make sense of it.

I see a picture of two smiling and happy people, but what became of them? I haven’t talked with her for many years. She’s happily married to someone else now, but I know nothing of her life. How do two people go from smiling and happy in a picture to strangers who don’t even know each other?

I don’t know.

She was smart. She was funny. She was talented. And the picture reminds me just how beautiful she is.

I remember specific facts about her and about our relationship, but the emotional truth is more blurry. We were an unlikely pair to end up together, but somehow we did.

It was mostly because we wanted the same things in life. We both wanted a family. I was completely different from the men she had dated before. At first, she wasn’t sure she wanted someone like me, but she soon decided to take a big chance by moving here to pursue a future with me.

But how did I feel about her?

Even now, I can’t answer that question. There are some women who I’ve immediately and deeply loved. It was never that way with her. But I was soon comfortable enough with her that I missed her when we weren’t together. That’s the way I remember it, anyway.

Did I ever love her? That’s a tough question to answer. I cared about her. I could see a future with her. I think we looked right together. But my heart never needed her the way I’ve needed the few other women I’ve loved. At least, that’s the way it seems now. I just don’t know whether to trust my faded watercolor memories about that.

The last time I saw her, we had met for lunch. There was nothing unusual about the day. But I did something to make her angry. I don’t remember what it was. Honestly, I think she had just had enough of me refusing to make up my mind about what to do about her.

She suddenly stood up — calmly, not in anger — and said she was leaving. She said she needed some time alone.

We never spoke again. I didn’t take that well. I suspect we have very different interpretations of what happened. I’ll probably never know. And I don’t guess it matters.

But as I look at the photo of us together in Chicago at dinner with her family, I wonder how we got from this picture of smiling happiness to the ugly ending which left us strangers.

Since she hasn’t been in my life for so long, it would be easy for me to write a history in which she was a terrible person. (Don’t most people do that?) But I can’t tell you she was terrible. I can tell you things I think she mishandled badly. And I can tell you things I mishandled badly.

But no matter what I think or feel about that past, she was a good person with good intentions. I’m glad she’s happy today.

We all write our own narrative about the past. She would have her narrative. I have mine. But mostly, she seems like a character from a movie — a beautiful actress who was once sent to play the role of my fiancé.

The script got blurry after that. It wasn’t a happy ending. The picture faded in my memory. The feelings got blurry and confused. And then forgotten.

Just like the two main characters in “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” we’re always dealing with things which dim our memories and blur what we’ve felt. It’s a miracle that we’re able to hold onto anything from the past with confidence.

And on that note, I’m left thinking about something entirely unrelated to this faded watercolor memory. It occurs to me that when two people do remain powerfully attached — in spite of all reason and normal life circumstances — it’s something they ought to pay attention to. Because a relationship in which genuine love and attachment lasts is rare.

Beauty fades. Memories get blurry. But real love survives. Real love is hard to leave behind.

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It’s still not a common pattern, but more families are deciding today that it makes sense for a dad to stay home with the kids while a mom is gone to a job. The specifics of such arrangements vary. In some cases, the wife works outside the home all the time and the husband runs the household. In others, the man works from home and the woman works outside the home part of the time. In such an arrangement, the parents switch who’s supervising children depending on who’s home and who’s busy. Society still seems to collectively have a problem with non-traditional parenting arrangements, but they can make a lot of sense for many people. Of course, the far-more-common pattern is a father who works full-time elsewhere and a mother who works full-time as well, but who still has to take care of kids and home when she’s finished with her paying job. Different arrangements are going to work for different families, but it’s clear that the worst of all worlds in the expectation that the woman work a full-time job and then come home and work another full-time job raising children on her own.

Stories about young people running away from home often don’t end well, but I just heard a story of a good outcome. The young woman who shared her story with me isn’t a child, though. She’s in her early 20s, but she ran away from home last year. She lived in Michigan with her dysfunctional family. Her mom was addicted to meth and various prescription drugs. She was the only one in the family who worked — and her family took almost all of the money she earned. The only bright spot in her life was a guy she met online playing a video game. The two grew close and fell in love. About 18 months ago, she secretly packed everything she owned — and he drove from Birmingham to Michigan to pick her up without her family’s knowledge. Today, they’re married and have a new baby. She says leaving her family was the second best thing that ever happened to her — and her husband and baby are the best. “He doesn’t seem to understand what a big deal it was,” she said, “but he saved my life. I took a big risk and he did, too, but I’m happy and loved for the first time in my life.” It might not be common, but some runaway stories do end well.

This is apparently what I would look like as a woman, at least according to a ridiculous app called FaceApp that I’ve been playing with late Thursday night. (Find links for iOS and Android here.) It’s been around for a couple of years, but I just downloaded the free version and had some fun. I’m happy to say that the app has diplomatically given me a bit of liposuction in the process, so this is probably more like what I might look like as a woman who’s about 70 pounds lighter. My sisters were both beautiful young women — and one of them annoyed her classmates by winning a beauty contest and then never caring enough about it to mention it again — so maybe our genes are better for females than males. Give it a try. It’s silly, but it’s fun.

Missing someone always seems worst in the wee hours of the morning. Maybe it’s because our days are filled with things that distract us with tasks to accomplish and then we find ourselves alone at night with our thoughts and feelings. I’ve been having trouble sleeping for many months, but I rarely try to explain why, even though I know very clearly. As an evening drags on and it becomes more silent, I seem to be left with the best and the worst of my hopes and fears. And that makes it hard to turn my brain off and go to sleep. In one of her private letters, writer Edna St. Vincent Millay voiced what I feel: “Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.” But would you erase love for someone from your mind to be rid of that torture? In the movie, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” that’s the central premise, although it takes a long time to understand what’s going on. Two people start out wanting to forget one another, but it turns out that forgetting is even more painful. There’s nothing better than experiencing real love. Living with lost love is terribly painful, but not as painful as losing the part of yourself that still knows how to love unconditionally.

Most parents have been brainwashed to believe that the only responsible way to educate their children is to put them into the hands of “professionals.” These are most commonly government employees who are teaching a curriculum dictated by politicians, but the people from whom children learn the most in traditional schools are their peers. As the culture becomes more dysfunctional and increasingly leads children down dangerous paths, parents are in denial, believing “that happens in other schools” — that their children are safe and well-served in their schools. And let’s be honest. Most parents simply have no interest in putting in the sort of work that would be necessary to give their children a first-rate education that’s less regimented, more personalized and more empowering. It used to be that learning at home was reserved for “religious nuts” and dysfunctional people, but that’s no longer the case. Various forms of non-traditional learning are becoming more accepted. In this eye-opening article, the Foundation for Economic Education lists 100 reasons you should consider teaching your kids at home — and each reason has documentation to back it up. Your children deserve more than any government-run “warehouse for kids” can possibly give them.

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