I don’t know where she went. She walked out one day without me noticing. No clothes missing from the closet. No sound of a suitcase crossing the silent house. No goodbye. Not even a subtle whisper as she the door gently closed.
She has a whimsical spirit. Like petals on the wind. A poet. A wild heart. I guess her unsatisfied restlessness finally got the best of her. She needed to explore the world for herself, fulfilling all those plans we made, only solo. There was always something intriguing about being out in the world alone. A romantic, solitary escapade to patch up a fragmented heart. Denim worn down to nothing. Leather left faded and torn. A once-adored outfit with no bones to fill it. Hanging dismally in the closet, where she abandoned it.
She left an aching desolation here that I’ve tried to fill with cigarettes and rum. I could go chase her down to whatever crevice of the world she’s discovered. Beg for forgiveness. Take me back. You be my gypsy heart of lace and velvet. I’ll be the familiar bones in which to run rampant through this chaotic place. You don’t need to be the wind when a body feels like home. I’ll even wear that old hockey sweater if it makes you feel closer.
We always wanted to saunter the streets of London. Get lost in the Piccadilly Circus’s neon haze. To seek out some family history and put the pieces of than old mystery together. Was your great-grandfather’s death a murder or an accident? We may never know if we don’t try. You even triangulated the areas you need to visit via Google Maps. You’re prepared.
We yearned for the last seven years to return to Ottawa for Canada Day. To gaze in awe at the midnight fireworks, thousands of kilometers from home. Do you remember finding a piece of yourself there? Canada celebrates its 150th birthday this year. Discovery Passes to all parks are free. What a time to explore!
We dreamed of New York City skyscrapers, designer stores and little boutiques. Visiting the John Lennon memorial and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. To shop like Carrie Bradshaw from “Sex and the City”. To know how it feels to be lost in the throngs of millions of people who will never know your face.
And sometimes, we simply wanted a highway to nowhere and an endless music playlist. Some days I still look down Highway 3 and wonder where it’d take me if I vanished like you have. Would I find you, or another version of you? You’re so irreplaceable.
So, when did we let these starry-eyed dreams burn out, my dear girl? Who told you something so incredibly stupid like a young lady shouldn’t chase storms that electrified her world? That she couldn’t crackle skies and rumble the clouds? When did wildflowers intoxicating your girlish spirit wilt?
These days you feel more like a flower beneath snow drifts. Forgotten. Crushed. Lost.
Adulthood took hold of us with bills, change, and doctors. Friends who move away and carry on and with every one that leaves you feel more left behind. Stuck in this town. The sense of permanency that’s always terrified you. For a marriage and a job to root you in place is unheard of. Yet here we are. Standing still when you want to crash welcome signs and run red lights until the highway is vacant.
So, let’s take a plane just to fly.
Let’s drive until we can’t think anymore.
Let’s crank the music until pain is the past.
Let’s go on a date. Only us. The kind where we sit and read a book while drinking bottomless coffee as the hockey game dwindles down. Game over.
Come back to me. Because to chase dreams is one thing. But if it is you, my soul, I must chase down…I know you don’t stay in one place. You need a new town, another place, yet you have no real destination. Only a full tank, white lines and highway signs.
I stare off into nothing and for a flickering moment, I can see her. I neglected her until she fled the suffocation of life. Ripped from binding heartstrings and gone. Just gone.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know where to find her. And I don’t know any other way to word it.
She is me. And she disappeared without me ever going anywhere.
