I have a picture of my grandparents that was taken in the late 1930′s before they married and went on to have 10 kids, 30+ grandchildren and countless great-grandchildren. My version of the photo is from the scanned original. It’s still faded and you can see a few small tears and crinkled edges that translated over in the scan. In this picture I see only smiles and hands held as they stand there with their faces toward the sunshine. They are frozen in time and this is their past.

I wonder sometimes why I allow myself to stay so fixated on my own past. Why I look at the wrinkled picture of my own life and choose not to focus on the torn edges of failed relationships and instead hold on to the sunshine. Am I doomed to repeat the mistakes I’ve already made if I choose not to remember them?

Instead of making attempts to go out and meet new people (i.e. men), I lay in bed each night and reminisce about those that hurt me or disappointed me eventually, but at their best – was exactly what I wanted at that moment in time.

When will the time come where I can let each of them go for good? Why do I still get pleasure from certain memories? The breathless moment his lips touched my neck for the first time. The coolness of the sterling silver Tiffany cuff links in my hands before I wrapped a Christmas bow on the box. The look on his face as he smiled in a picture taken just for me. Different moments, different relationships, but the memories meld together to form one imperfect situation.

I want to stop living in the past. It’s only after the lights go out that I get this way. My days are full and content. In the light of day I am able to hold on to my contentment in being single, and being single for the long haul. The nights are so very different. In the nighttime, I crave those breathless moments.

The desires of my heart and the realities of my life seem miles apart. I have to find reconciliation.