He was someone I loved. Someone I told all of my secrets to. Someone who made me laugh.
Someone who made me cry.
He didn’t mean to make me cry. He apologized and gave me a box of chocolates.
Could a single box of chocolate make it right?
So, he gave me several. One box every time.
The chocolate was bitter to eat and hard to swallow.
And I found that it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough to buy my forgiveness or my understanding or my willingness to hear another apology later.
It wasn’t enough to make any of it right.
He gave me another apology and another box of chocolate.
I didn’t forgive him.
Not this time.
I took his apology and dumped it in the garbage.
I grabbed my purse and left.
He begged me to stay.
He demanded I stay.
He grabbed my arm and tried to force me to stay.
None of those tactics worked.
I grabbed my purse off the floor and left.
That was all a long time ago.
I have found peace and joy and love.
He doesn’t buy me boxes of chocolate and I never ask him to do so.
I am happy.
I am light.
I am daytime sky full of brilliant stars.
Nothing will drag me down because the man I love doesn’t make me cry.
He doesn’t buy my boxes of apologies to be eaten and thrown away.
I was walking across the street the other day.
It was raining. I held an umbrella.
And I saw him.
He was crossing the street.
Heading towards me with a box of chocolate in his hand.
I panicked. I wanted to run. I wanted to die.
I wanted to disappear.
Then, I thought of the man I loved.
This small man, this grubby petty man no longer held power over me.
I held my head like I was wearing Oscar winning jewelry.
I kept walking forward.
He glanced at me as our paths crossed.
I looked at him with a stranger’s cold indifference.
“Excuse me.” he said. “Do I know you?”
I smiled. “No. You never did.” I continued onward, leaving him with his box of bitter chocolates in the rain.