My Lisa

Have you ever noticed how the harder you try to forget someone the more they invade your thoughts? One moment you're minding your own business, getting on with life, and all it takes is a smell, a sound, a sight, something so small and innocuous you don't consciously recognize it, yet there it is, a memory in full Technicolor taking over your every thought, your every breath, and once again, there you are suffering through the loss of her all over again. Is this the price we pay for love?

It's been four years now and she's moved on. She found the love she was looking for and he's taking care of her. I'm happy for her. I put my life back together after she left and I moved on as well; at least I thought I did. Then one of those moments comes along and every minute I spent with her comes back and my heart fills with a burning cold; God, how I miss her! I can hear her laughter everywhere. The way she would say "Oh Yeah!" when she would have the winning hand at a card game; the way she would close her eyes and roll her head back when listening to her music; the way her eyes would shine when she looked at me and the way she would arch her back and catch her breath when I would enter her; and the faraway place she would take me when we made love to each other. She would whisper in my ear "I love you" as we moved together and I knew my life was no longer mine to control!

I could sit and stare at her for hours, and she hated it! She was never comfortable with herself and couldn't understand how I was so intoxicated by her. I loved watching her as she slept. Her hand to her breast, her hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her. Her face so peaceful; looking so much like a little girl with her freckle covered face. In the morning watching her as she sipped her coffee on the couch, her long legs pulled up to her chest, one foot resting on the other, holding the cup close to her letting it warm her. Then she would catch me staring at her and I would get "that" look! She always thought my stares had to do with sex, that I was just looking at her because I wanted her. She never knew that I couldn't stop staring because I couldn't believe she had chosen me; that I couldn't believe out of all the men in the world mine was the heart she wanted to touch. And I couldn't stop staring because I knew, in time, she would leave me and I wanted to soak up every moment with her and lock it away someplace deep to be pulled out in my old age to remind me that I had, in fact, actually lived at one time.

I saw her last about three years ago. She smiled and kissed me on the cheek, and held my hand briefly. We talked and played some cards and I sat across the table from her and stared until I got "that" look from her again. She walked into the kitchen to fill her glass and I followed her every move until the vision of her blurred behind my tears. She wasn't mine anymore. And I wasn't hers.

She's happy now. I don't know if she even thinks of me anymore. I hope she does. We used to tell each other that ours was a love that had lived long before us and would live long after us. I guess lovers tell each other those things. Only she had me convinced that it was so. Somewhere deep inside my broken heart I still believe it. I have to. I guess this IS the price we pay for love. For three years she loved me. It's my fault she's gone. But hers is a fire that burns so hot I don't know if any man will ever truly possess her. I do know this. Any man is indeed lucky to know her heart even briefly. I cry for her still. I hurt for her still. God, how I hurt! I put it all behind me as best I can and I move on. One moment you're minding your own business, getting on with life, and all it takes is a smell, a sound, a sight, something so small and innocuous you don't consciously recognize it.