I’ve got a pang. It’s not jealousy or anger, but a what-could-have-been sadness. A what-if-we-could-have feeling. I wish I could mix these pangs in a blender so I didn’t have to identify them by name anymore, but that’s not how this works. I’d throw in that much-anticipated first kiss, the dog walks, the ear-to-ear smiles and laughs to make it sweet. I’d add the travels, inside jokes, and our power couple dreams for depth of flavor. And, to make it balanced, the frustrations, the communication breakdown, the tears, and the no-turning back decision.
But that’s not how this works.
The bittersweet reminder of this love squeezes on in pangs that come and go on fringed edges.
That’s how this works.