I was talking with a dear friend of mine, and we were discussing how memory and place were tied together. He has a hard time leaving places, and memories for him are ingrained in those places. Happy times in his life are reawakened by visiting those places.
For me, places are cool, but they don't have nearly the meaning for me that they do for him. I've moved almost every year since I was 18. I have a list somewhere of all my addresses, so I won't forget.
People, on the other hand, echo through my life over and over and over.
Thursday, I encountered a piece of information I wanted to pass along to my ex, LS. I see that a band she likes is coming to down, and wanted to point her in that direction.
And I had to stop. LS has decided not to have me in her life anymore. It's fair, I told her I didn't want to date or live with her anymore, so she decided no contact was best. It hurts, as I generally have fairly good relationships with exes, after a while. But I broke it off, it's only fair she sets the terms.
So I have this memory of caring that I don't know what to do with. I have said in the past, that it'll fade. And it will. But it's still raw now. I have several exes that I have the memory of caring for, and some I'm in contact with, some I'm not. Some I'm curious about, some I have lost track of.
So, I take that information, and file it away. As for myself, my life is wonderful, my love and I are starting a farm and it's coming together, we have children who're warming up to me as their step-dad. It's all good.
But that wound is still there, and occasionally life pours salt on it. I still have that memory of caring. It'll pass. It'll fade. But I doubt it'll ever go away.