When We Were

by Diana Elliot Graham

We’ve had about three-thousand miles, fourteen years, and a big fucking misunderstanding between us.

It’s amazing how much first meetings and the roles you fill in those initial moments become who you are. That immediate imprint becomes the shape you take in people’s minds.

needed her to know that despite everything. She was the love of my life, the love of that life.

“But memories aren’t always honest, ours clearly weren’t. They are filtered and viewed through whatever lens we need them to be. And you don’t make decisions on that. You can’t build a life on the blueprints of memories alone.”

You can love a memory without loving the person. And as I look at him, I know that the love we have for each other in this moment is that.

“So it doesn’t matter how we choose to remember what happened between us. I know two things...” He looks deep in my eyes, preparing himself for something that seems difficult to admit. “One.” He holds up a finger, and lets the soft smile pull on his lips. “I loved you.” “Two.” He extends a second finger, and the smile falls flat. “Not enough.”

We both know we have embers left in the ashes. We can either stoke them, feed them the oxygen they need to grow into flames again, knowing that that fire would burn down the lives we’ve made, or we could suffocate them. Instead, taking the deep breaths we need to fill our own lungs with air and allow ourselves to breathe. There isn’t enough oxygen for both.

“I used to think that maybe you were just the right person but at the wrong time. You know? Like maybe there would be a time for us. That there would be other chapters, but you would eventually be my epilogue. But I was wrong. I think you were the right person, at the right time, and we can blame the miscommunication trope all we want, but like you said, none of it was enough.

You loved someone else, someone I used to be, and maybe I’m still her, and maybe in some ways you’re still him, but it was never going to be enough, and we won’t be them again, at least not together.”

We choose to breathe. The ember is out. It’s now just ash.