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We talked yesterday.

I called to ask when you’d come pick up your things. One ring, two rings, three rings…then your voice on the other end. “Hi, Y.”

You answered. That alone felt good.

I could hear you shifting, maybe in bed, maybe on the couch.

“Hey, uh, so when are you gonna come pick up your stuff?” I rehearsed that.

“I can do it this weekend.”

I want to see you.

I go over the conversation in my head, over and over, rehearsing. I tell myself I’ll be cold, detached. But I never am. It’s not in my nature. It never has been. Maybe that’s why almost all of my exes still keep in touch. I forgive easily.

The forgiveness part? That’s mostly for me. Holding onto anger takes up too much space in a mind that just wants to be at peace. People are flawed. We’re walking contradictions, a freak show of the animal kingdom, stumbling through life, trying to be good but often missing the mark.

I end up getting into some things with you. You respond gracefully, you always did. That patience of yours… I appreciated it more than you probably ever knew.

I’ll see you this weekend. I don’t know what I’ll say. I want to say something profound, something meaningful. I know I won’t want you to go. But what can I do? It is what it is.

After all, I still love you.

I will always have love for you.