The Unwinding of the Miracle: A Memoir of Life, Death, and Everything That Comes After

by Julie Yip-Williams

and for better or worse, it has also robbed us of that unique euphoria of falling in love. The intense excitement and anxiety of falling in love are only memories now, impersonal almost, as if it all happened to somebody else. Sometimes, I wish I could relive those moments, just push a button and for a few glorious minutes travel back in time and be that young, ecstatic woman falling in love with the man of her dreams all over again. But the laws of existence don’t allow that. By the same token, I don’t remember the innumerable fights we’ve had, either, not even the worst ones, in which we threatened divorce. I don’t remember what they were about. I know there were occasions when I was so angry I wanted to smack you in the face, but I can’t make myself feel that rage now. Time cares not that you are the man of my dreams, nor does it care about the most egregious wrongs we have committed against one another; it cares not whether the experiences and emotions were wanted or unwanted, loved or hated; it does not discriminate. Eventually, time dulls everything. It removes the intensity of the purest of joys and the hottest of rages and, yes, even the most heartbreaking of sorrows.