I was thinking on my way home from my workout--About loving this man; I've been smitten with for quite awhile now. I am moving away--And, I've not said anything to him. Though, if he hears any scuttlebutt then he knows. If in fact I really, truly do have genuine feelings for this man. If I honestly think he is wonderful. If deep down on the bottom and top of my heart I treasure him then to exercise that love and build it up best I can, I thought, I have want him to be happy. His happiness is paramount. His joy, and freedom and feeling gooded-ness in the world should be my ultimate agenda. And, if he can't be happy with me--My heart has to be strong enough to let him go--And, I put my head down and thought about it--and thought about it--and thought some more about it. I got home, and started to stretch my worked out muscles, I stood up and a voice inside of my head said, 'What the hell does that mean?' About setting him free. About wanting him to be happy? And I began to feel irritated, annoyed and disturbed. It would not be so easy for me to just 'let go' And off and on--In the memories in my heart I could see him smiling--Pleased with life--excited and wanting to live, FOREVER. And, I knew.
I knew from the bottom of my feet, the tips of my toes...the top of my head and the ends of my hair...and from every part of me--I did love this man. His happiness was important to me. No matter where it took him, took me, took either one of us....I had to let him go...and wish and hold and pray and beg and plead the heavens above...For his joy. His happiness. His freedom.
His smile. I had to love enough to let him go.
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