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“Everything is temporary until it’s not, to me,” he says to me. I’ve had to squeeze this answer out of him and at first, I’m kind of taken aback. Why would someone go through their life thinking people are just temporary? How do you form attachments like that? And why does this make it okay to treat people like they’re nothing? I’m gone soon after, because I’m not wanted, because I am just temporary to him. And although I wasn’t sure at the time…
It wasn’t always about boys. I’m sure at some point, birthdays were great. There wasn’t always a birthday curse. I absolutely believe that the days when my mom baked me a chocolate on chocolate cake and made her German lasagna and there were presents to open and people to thank, that my birthday was happy. I like to think that those days will come back to me, or that I’ll make days like them with my children. I want to believe that my life, my one day each year that’s solely about me, wasn…
I’ve been reluctant to write about the German. Part of me felt like as soon as I did, then that was it. I’d just be writing a memory. And I didn’t want him to be a memory for everyone to read about. I wanted him to be real. I wanted those days to stay fresh in my head. I wanted them to be a comfort when I was having the constant Vienna withdrawals I’d been having lately. But I can’t keep him in my head forever. He’s…
