12:05 pm ][ i was home.

Whenever I’m back in my hometown of St.Louis, I find myself smothered in emotion that I was sure no longer existed.  The smell of unforgettable memories infused with curious “what-if’s” always leaves my mouth watering and my mind wandering.

Up until last month’s visit, I was nearly content with my long-distance relationship with love.  I was starting to forget that such an archaic emotion still existed.  But as I drove down those all-too-familiar roads…as I saw those all-too-familiar faces…I could feel my shell breaking.  I was remembering.

Everywhere I turned was a reminder of the hopeful romantic that I used to be.  Malls where I gallivanted on playful, teenage double-dates.  Gazebos where we slow danced to Jodeci and Jon B from my portable boombox.  Bus stops where I tightly hugged old boyfriends goodbye.  Front yards, where young hearts were poured out to me, as I polished nappy heads with cornrolls and twisties.

In-between my legs sat not just young love but the promise of something greater.  I was so ready and eager to love.  And more certain that my adult years would offer an abundance of it.  To know it was that very eagerness which led me to such an unexpected place of solitude both frustrates and pains me.  If only I had learned earlier to give myself the very love which I had been so freely giving to others.

I can’t change the past.  I know that.  But with each visit back home, I feel haunted by it.  I don’t know if I’ll ever find room in my heart for someone new.  Or if someone will ever find it in theirs to love me gently.  But if neither is possible, I would rather not be reminded of the optimistic romantic I used to be.

Nosie Josie  JE19