By Taylor Sweet
So here I am. With a little more time and maturity under my belt, I’m standing at the base of the stairs that lead me to your front door. The air makes my teeth chatter and my knuckles are turning purple. I’m even colder now than when I was next to you, if you can believe it. But I don’t care; I need to do this. Finally I’ve let go of all the pathetic emotions that made this situation so complicated in the first place. The wind whips my hair in front of my face, along with a number of snowflakes that cling to my eyelashes. Your car isn’t in the driveway; you’re probably at work. It’s probably better that way. I can sound mature on paper but the mere thought of having to speak to you makes me choke on air. If I was better at this I would just call you and say what I need to say, but I can’t stutter when I write so it’s safer this way.
My feet carefully land on the wooden steps. I skip the third one- I remember what you told me about that the first time I came here with you. The last one creaks slightly as I reach your front porch. The light above your door buzzes slightly, as if the bulb is about to blow.
I pull an envelope from the pocket of my coat. Sealed at the center with your name written quickly. I take a deep breath; nothing could have prepared me for this moment, or anything else about us for that matter.
I’m sorry that it took me so long to let go, and that it made things so uncomfortable.
But more than that, I’m sorry that you gave up so quickly.
I was ready to give you the world, but now I see that you have your own.
I hope you enjoy yourself there all alone.
I don’t bother signing it; you’ll know who it’s from. So many crumpled pages and cross-outs that take up line after line. Nothing but a waste that is littering the floor of my bedroom. All to get four damn sentences.
I put it in the mailbox that’s on your door. Two years summed up in four lines. No one back then understood it, and looking back on it now I’m not sure if I do either. It’s too cold to contemplate the meaning of things. It’s hard to make sense of you when I can feel the blood freezing inside my veins.
The snow crunches under my feet as I walk to my car. This all seems just a bit too simple. But if anyone can appreciate minimalism, it’s you.