{"id":27461,"date":"2019-03-22T19:48:56","date_gmt":"2019-03-23T00:48:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.davidmcelroy.org\/?p=27461"},"modified":"2019-03-28T16:23:40","modified_gmt":"2019-03-28T21:23:40","slug":"past-is-like-blurry-watercolor-not-like-history-of-real-people","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/?p=27461","title":{"rendered":"Past feels like blurry watercolor, not like the history of real people"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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?<\/p>\n

I don’t know.<\/p>\n

She was smart. She was funny. She was talented. And the picture reminds me just how beautiful she is.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

But how did I feel about her?<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

She suddenly stood up — calmly, not in anger — and said she was leaving. She said she needed some time alone.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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 fianc\u00e9.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

Beauty fades. Memories get blurry. But real love survives. Real love is hard to leave behind.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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 Keep Reading<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[247,513,263,270,248],"class_list":{"0":"post-27461","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-uncategorized","7":"tag-love","8":"tag-memory","9":"tag-psychology","10":"tag-relationships","11":"tag-romance","12":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1x9iR-78V","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27461","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=27461"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27461\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27960,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27461\/revisions\/27960"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=27461"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=27461"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=27461"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}