Outside of my window

The large monuments outside of my window, they move slowly. Or am I moving? That's right, it's me. I know, because when I look down at the pavement, it is speeding dizzily below me. The principles of physics make me sick.

I used to have such a secure hold on what a small quiet town in a valley meant to me. But it is now elusive. Everything outside of my car window--the places that shaped the backdrop of where it all began-- make me feel pangs of hurt, of love, of loss, of happiness, of being filled up completely, and emptied just the same.

I see our time in snap shots and images that fly past my periphery like the blur outside of my window. I smile, hear a laugh, see a twinkle shine off of those green eyes. I feel warmth, hear jokes, snuggle into warm habits. I throw my head back and laugh, about to regale you with a memory. Then dissolve back into my reality, my hands on the wheel. I am moving forward, my laugh echoing into empty space.

My heart hurts in ways that my brain cannot reconcile. Even though I know that this is right. Even though I feel so free. The ground is speeding under me, and the sky is moving slowly above. Oh the terror of that great duality. Oh, the freedom. Oh, the pain. Oh, the great exhalation. Oh, the grief.

I will never regret you. And I will never forget you. And I will always love what we had, even as I watch it turn into a memory, blurring together outside of my window, and moving quickly into the past