For decades she has been my favourite person in the world,
my best friend, the heart of all my best memories, and you'd think there wasn't
much more we could learn about our story. But maybe through complete honestly, new
perspectives earned over time, and Sarah's still shockingly good memory for
details, we both learned things we didn't know. When we got home, I pulled out
a box of old letters and it became this archeological dig. The words I’d written,
I'll admit, were shockingly juvenile at times, but I think the biggest surprise
was how clearly we loved each other before we even knew it. And Sarah's letters
reaffirmed it when we found her bundle. We'd begun writing as friends, before
unconditional friendship became unconditional love. Our friendship came though vulnerability
– sharing our "darkest secrets" (not that dark, in retrospect).
And it's clear through how often we wrote and some of the content (we were both
seeing other people throughout most of it, and while the letters never really
crossed the line, Sarah pointed out a few choices sections saying, "Does
a friend write this to a friend?"
Out of this little archeologic dig, we became absolutely obsessed
with each other again. It was unexpected and wonderful. I went back to
Georgetown alone with the kids the following week, but spent all of my time writing
or calling Sarah while I was away. It was just like when we first started
dating –wanting to spend all of our time together. But it wasn't just nostalgia
or recreating old times. Strange as it is to say, it was like existing in more
than one place and being more than one person at once. Loving Sarah as a twenty
year old kid but also as I am now. It was such a gift. This intensity we had decades
ago came back redoubled. And it's still there. Life hasn't let us live in it
full time like we did for a while after that car ride, but it's still there and
recoverable in an instant.
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