Story from 131016

writing story

published 1970-01-01 00:00

updated 1970-01-01 00:00

%date 131016 00:00

The future never was kind to those of us who held things only on a day to day basis. Of all my keepsakes, sentimental ornaments and otherwise personal items of debt, you were the most important. Looking out into tomorrow, I would have no choice but to let go of you. It was inevitable. To write a little bit of a cliche it was certain as the sun's rise tomorrow. I couldn't do anything about it. Neither could you. This didn't make it easier for me; I can't speak for you. Letting go was not something I was good at, and there where times where I imagined us together; buying a house, getting drunk on the porch, having kids, yelling at the kids, growing old together. If not today, then perhaps tomorrow could hold shape these false memories into reality, if only you could stay. But alas, such dreams will remain merely dreams. By the end of this year we will have moved apart, not because either of us wanted to, it just happened to be coincedence. A byproduct of chance. Many years down the road, I'll look back on today as a fork in the road where I choose the wrong path, but didn't really have a choice.