Crescent City and beyond

Last week, I flew to New Orleans and it was far better than I expected it to be. I was worried and stressed. I thought, this is too last minute, too impulsive, too unplanned… It went smoothly up until the last day where my couch surfing host cancelled last minute and I was stressed then got a hotel, spent way too much money and… still made it back to Chicago alive and not regretting any other part of my trip. Perhaps 4 days or less in New Orleans is enough, but I still couldn’t believe how wonderful it was. I saw the level of poverty there but I also saw the shameless hustle of people in that city. The rich history, the food, and the beautiful scenery. I sat in Louis Armstrong Park chatting for hours with my friend and finding myself feeling that sense of this is what was meant to be.

No matter what happens beyond that holiday, I’ll always look back in fondness and pride that I went for it. I did it and I experienced the newness; a completely different lifestyle for one week.

I came back this past weekend with a bit of those post-holiday blues and reminiscing about all those new memories I made. Even in New Orleans, I thought about my past and yes, my ex. I didn’t let myself ignore those feelings. How I missed missing him daily. I knew that I wasn’t missing him all the time like I used to. The distance and the lack of communication is quite present. He is no longer part of my daily life. I recall experiences we have together and I miss them. I miss him. It’s this strange paradox of I miss him and I don’t. I miss his smile, his laugh and his embrace. I miss his gentleness from the beginning of our relationship. I don’t miss his sexist comments, judgments towards me or my friends, or that temper that brought out the worst in both of us.

I took good with bad and thought that’s what love is. It’s more than that. So many elements make a relationship function and it’s constantly evolving, it’s ongoing. I am still moving on. I am not over it. I’m not, not in the least. I’m honest about that. But I’m not clinging onto those golden moments of our past. I see them, I cherish it and I wish there were more. But there isn’t. Beyond that, I have no idea what else there is. I want to reach out and say more, but nothing comes to mind. I guess I want to catalogue and detail those beautiful true stories that occurred so that way the awfulness in between doesn’t taint everything. How can you have that beauty without the tragedy? I’m still mixed up and that’s how it’s going to be for awhile.

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