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  • The universe is never what you think, you'd always say. And I'd say, "OK" but I never really knew what that meant. Once, just once, you suggested we live in your garden apartment together- me, you, your giant dog... and eventually our daughter, when she finds her way into this world. We'd make a corner of the downstairs into a tiny art studio, and our babe could sleep next to us in her crib. Our love would grow exponentially, beyond the boundaries of our wounded-then-healed-then-wounded hearts. I allowed my heart to settle into that dream, and every time we would wrap our arms around each other, I would sigh, settle into your shoulder, and I would think of that dream and send my love- ALL of it- straight to it, in hopes and prayers that it would one day become true. I kept saying, over and over, that we had all the time in the world to get to know each other; I think you knew that was not true, but would never correct me.

    I closed my eyes, then when I opened them, I realized that dream had fallen to the ground, and with it, my heart fell, too. But something happened that I wasn't expecting:

    The shell of my heart broke open, and a vast amount of love, pain, hope, and sadness came seeping out of the cracks- an amount that simply defied physics. That unassuming tiny container was home to an an entire ocean, and the depth and vastness of it is so scary and exciting all at the same time. I thought you broke my heart, but that's not what happened at all. My heart opened up because everything that was inside it is much bigger than the shell. That ocean- that sorrow, hope, pain, and love- is all mine to use as I see fit; maybe for now, I'll explore it a bit, and make some artwork with it... but later on? The anticipation of what exists in that ocean is just too great to keep to myself, that's for sure.
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