Sometimes, as warmly and gently love comes, it leaves, coldly, rapidly, leaving you feeling as though the earth has shifted beneath your feet. You shake your head in disbelief, wondering how this could have happened. Was I inattentive? Neglectful? Unappreciative? Unresponsive? You rack your brain, but try as you might, you can’t think of a reason. Life has already shown you that sometimes you have to accept there is no reason. Despair and loneliness fill your heart, which has been smashed and strewn about in thousands of tiny shards.
At least it feels that way. Rather, your Jetta’s front passenger window has has been shattered into pieces by of the trajectory of a large rock. You find said rock sitting smugly in the passenger seat, which is now littered with broken glass as if to say “When were you going to get here!? This place is a mess!” Crestfallen, you rummage through the vehicle hoping against hope your sweetie has been spared. But alas, she is gone. She has disappeared in the dark of night. Just when you were feeling safe and secure, wrapped tight in the comforting arms of the safest city in which you have ever dwelled… this.
You call the police and eat cereal as you wait for them to come. Two tall, clean-cut young men in uniform arrive shortly. You wonder why you must be one of Boulder’s two crime victims this evening, This was supposed to be your night to relax, read, go to be early. As you crunch on your Archer Farms multi-grain high protein cereal and soy milk, it occurs to you that fate had other plans. To the kind-faced men in uniform you open up, “I just can’t believe I got robbed!” They say you weren’t robbed. Your car was just broken into. You nod and smile, knowing it’s not worth arguing but inwardly your heart is breaking. You were robbed of true love, the kind you don’t find every day. The police make small talk as if this is a routine event and ask for the serial number of the stolen Garmin GPS.
Trudging into the living room with the Garmin Nuvi 200 box in hand, your mind wanders as the cops record the details. Sure there were hard times… like when she gave you the cold shoulder back in March and you ended up having to have a separation period before you finally worked things out. In hindsight you realize you may have been too forceful, too gruff… maybe you said too many vulgar curse words that time on the way to your first day of work in Denver a couple months ago, when she was just too tired to talk to you. It turned out she hadn’t had any sleep, any food, really any chance to recharge her batteries in weeks. But you didn’t know. You were frustrated, running late and lost sans map, and now you regret taking it out on her.
But when times were good, they were so good. You relied on her. You trusted her. For ten months now you had navigated journey after journey together. She stuck by you the whole way trip from Rhode Island to Colorado… she pointed out the closest McDonald’s (their coffee is quite good), and never made you feel guilty for leaving home, or silly for going to a far away place where you knew no one, had no place to live, and only kind of had a job. She helped you navigate this once unfamiliar city like your partner in crime. She was there every step of the way to Ironman Wisconsin. When you broke your friend’s French press in Madison, she gently lead you to Bed Bath and Beyond, never scolding you for your life-long propensity to break things in other peoples’ houses.
And what did you do for her? You trusted the world to be kind to her. You left her in your car at night. Albeit in the console but her power cord was exposed, leaving her vulnerable and defenseless on a windy night to a clan of hooded houligans. Would you treat your next love like this? The answer was decidedly no. The bigger question loomed large: Would you attempt to find another love? Maybe someday. For now you decide its time to be on your own for a while.