I have just left the lab, glowing with the feeling of success. I love what I do and applying that skill to a new medium, a new set of problems, and making it WORK fills me up.
The sky is grey overhead, and the wind — it’s not whipping, but it’s not gentle either. A stiff breeze pushing the chill of a newly started fall season with it.
I walk across the parking lot, boots with 3-inch heels and that distinctive click that I haven’t heard in a few years. Jeans, striped sweater, pea coat, gloves, scarf. I open the door, slide into the leather seat. A summer with the trainer has left me feeling thin, fit, capable. I light a cigarette, turn on the song, drive back to my office.
I hopelessly, helplessly, wonder why…
My eyes fill don’t fill up with tears any more, I’ve heard it enough to stop them from moving beyond heat. I circle the loop to the office, driving the speed limit to stretch out the time.
Five years ago, I think. I could pull out the folder and check, but I won’t. Had we decided to stop trying at that point? Or were we still cycling? I remember the sadness, the hollow melancholy, not searing pain. A dull ache wishing for what seemed impossible.
In some ways, I miss her, that girl that I was. Time does that — whitewash over the ugly bits, leaving the good parts to shine all that much more brightly.