My Momma told me after the breakup that once your heart has
been damaged you never allow yourself the same weakness again. You always
changed something in the way you handle love and a relationship, and she’s so
very right. My hearts never fully healed
from the breakup, it’s something I’ve always been honest about, and even if you’ve
only followed this blog for a few days it’s something you understand.
Charming knows and understands, I suspect his uncle has
warned him, maybe even Jay. I’m damaged and it’s no secret to any of my friends
around me. It’s something I’m working on changing. The wreck and the night in the hospital
was the start, realizing that I had lost everything and that it wasn’t coming
back. Then laying down in the grass and handing my heart to God, it was the
next step.
Yesterday as Charming and I rode through the South Meadow I
realized how committed he is to me. I realized he’s one human being, like his
uncle and D, that I can trust. As I laid my head on his chest that night and
settled in to sleep I realized he’s happy and maybe I can allow myself to feel
some happiness too.
But Momma is right, I won’t be able to love him like I did
the first. The love I will eventually build for Charming will be different, it
may be stronger, it may be weaker, but it will be different. I recognize the
hope in the relationship though, he took time off just to stay with me, just
because I was having a bad week. He’s putting his heart and soul into
rebuilding my bike, just because I’m his Uncle’s “little girl”. He is willing
to lay it all on the line, and risk the possibility that I’ll walk away, just
because he sees something worth keeping in me.
He may act like the first. He may be tall and handsome like
the first. He may work with and own Harleys like the first. He may even be a skillful rider
just like the first. But one thing is for sure, he is different then the first….
What will happen, will. I’ll either learn to love him or I
won’t. It’s all out of my hands, I have no control, I’m just along for the
ride.
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