You know those times when you and your significant other get in a fight? A full-on, heated, melt-down kind of fight? The kind that you swear if you ever saw them again it would be too soon?
The kind where you pack up your bags and leave.
and you don’t say goodbye.
and you don’t look back.
as more time passes,
the hurt fades
and the fond memories return.
Until one day, years later, you run into that old lover and they swoop you up in their arms, and you squeal and wiggle and the happiness bursts from where it hid deep within every pore.
The old lover knows you. Knows how to hold you, and you feel safe, they know how to stroke your hair and touch your skin, and you feel loved. They almost know you better than you know yourself. They welcome you back with open arms, because they love you. They always loved you.
And deep down, you love them too.
But, the reasons you left the first time are still there. Still haunting you in the back of your mind. Those reasons left your heart broken and bleeding and no matter how much time has passed you can still feel the scars.
I got in a fight like that recently.
Only it wasn’t perhaps really with the person I was seeing, but more of the city I was living in.
And that city welcomed me back.
And we danced and danced and danced and danced. Danced until I was sweaty and exhausted. Danced until I collapsed into its arms for a night of warmth, safety and love.
But in the morning….
I remembered the hurt, pain and heartbreak.
I remembered when my heart bled.
I remembered why I left in the first place.
Scared, wounded and cautious…
I’m still willing to give this city another chance.