That was two years ago.

 It was actually quite romantic when I stop to think about it.

The fireworks had just started, and you and I were sitting on the picnic blanket. We looked up at the sky, and you kept looking over at me. I kept thinking you were going to speak, so I just smiled and you smiled back and didn’t take your eyes off me for a few seconds.

You finally reached over and took my hand. I looked at you, and you asked if that was okay. I said yes, and just smiled again. I don’t think I’d stopped smiling at you the entire night. We sat like that for a few more minutes, and I don’t know what was louder—the fireworks or the pounding of both our hearts. Some of our friends were sitting behind us, but I don’t think you cared that they were observing the private moment that was meant for just the two of us. Because to both of us, in that moment, only the two of us existed.

“Allie?”

“Yes?”

“You remember how you said you’d tell me when you were ready to commit to us being together?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready now?”

I paused, and you backed away from where you’d been whispering in my ear. I looked at you and just stared for a moment.

“Yes.”

You didn’t say anything, but that charming smile slowly crept onto your face, and you looked down like you couldn’t believe it was actually happening. Then you nudged me, and I nudged you back. You scooted a little closer, squeezed my hand a little tighter, and we watched the rest of the fireworks sitting close.

That was two years ago, almost to the day.

Tonight the fireworks were set off from that same place, and they set off my memories. I remembered just how overjoyed I’d been that night. We’d been through a lot of drama with other people before we decided it was okay for us to be together, even if those others didn’t think so. You were the first real boyfriend I’d had, and I was so excited.

I remember exactly what both of us were wearing. I remember us walking back to the high school parking lot, and I remember driving home in my little white car. Your car was parked at my house, and I remember dancing in my garage when we got back. You were trying to teach me to salsa, but we kept tripping over each other and we couldn’t stop laughing.

A few minutes later you stopped, and looked at me, and you told me you didn’t want to leave because you wanted to look at me for a while longer. I honestly don’t think I’d ever smiled that much in one night before in my life.

But that was two years ago, almost to the day.

Since then, you’ve broken my heart, and I’ve gotten over you. I was so naïve, and so vulnerable. I didn’t know what was coming to me, so I just went on basking in the way you made me feel. When I woke up exhausted because we’d talked until 3 AM, I just smiled and counted the seconds until I’d see you again later that morning. I had no idea that you’d be the one to shatter me.

The day you broke up with me, I told myself I would get you back. I would figure out how to convince you that you’d made a mistake, and we would still be together. I was convinced that you and I were made for each other, and I couldn’t let you go.

But that was two years ago, almost to the day.

Once I realized that I wasn’t going to get you back, I spiraled downward more and more each day. I told myself I wasn’t worthy of any love because I wasn’t worthy of yours, and I started believing that with every ounce of my being. Instead of believing in the healing power of God, I believed in that one false thought that I could never be loved again.

But that was two years ago.

Since then, I’ve moved on. I’ve never really felt the same way around anyone that I felt when I was with you, but I’m okay with that. I’m convinced that the longer I wait, the sweeter it will feel when I finally do meet someone who makes me feel that way. And in all honesty, I know they’ll make me feel even better.

You graduated and went out west, and I haven’t seen you in over a year now. But here we are, back in the same town, for the weekend at least. You’re not going to school anymore, but I just started college and I couldn’t be happier. I would like to think that I’m doing a lot better than you are, simply because I have a plan for my life, and I know I can make my dreams come true.

Tonight that memory came back to me, and for the first time in a while, I thought of you without remembering the sadness I felt when you gave up on me. I remembered a happy memory, and the bitter pain that my heart usually associates with any thought of you didn’t contaminate it.

I could’ve let my thoughts wander until they made me hurt like that again. I could’ve been sad remembering how beaten up I was after you left.

But that was two years ago, and I have a life to live.