beautiful . solitude

I know that things will never be able to go back to the way they used to be.  I knew, know, and should have known better, that NOTHING ever goes back to the way that it used to be.

It either advances or falls behind, and if the latter, eventually fades ... all the way, or to some extent, small or big. 

A long time ago, I had a dream.  And then one day, I was able to grasp it.  Out of pure luck, it came and landed in my lap.  It was perhaps one of the best dreams of my life.

I lived that dream for a couple of years, until one day suddenly, it died -- like the car from before. 

But no ... in reality, I crashed it.  I was the one who had been responsible.  Half of the car was gone -- not my half, but the other half, and a car cannot be driven when only half exists.  Like the relationship.  I had no choice but to let it go.  And for many many days, weeks, months, and years, I suffered -- dreamed -- bad dreams -- about the car.

Like I do the relationship, even now. 

And as I stood before the new car today, I suddenly remembered the day I had gone to the shop to see the old car -- the love and admiration I had for it at first sight.  The relief and satisfaction I felt had been so positive against the feelings I have for the new car -- a used car, which was not a problem, but one that had been salvaged and repaired after a major traffic accident. 

But she was beautiful, and from what I was able to tell, well nurtured back to health after the incident, her injuries treated with care.  I stared at the rosiness of her freshly painted shell, and I suddenly remembered again.

That same day I walked out the shop many years ago, after making the purchase of the first car, mom and I had spotted the similar vehicle parked in the lot, identical to my first love in every which way, all except for the color.

"Are you interested?" the seller had asked, as if I should have shopped around a bit longer before making my decision.

I took another look at it, shook my head, smiled, and continued my way.

Little did I know that, years later, I would come face to face again with the same kind of car of the very same color.

And again I call it love, and maybe fate, simply a little belated.