Boxes of memories and some old bills

I'm going through the process of packing up my life and moving. This includes peculiar things like going through all my emails and deciding which ones I might need - like photos, old bills and sentiments from my mother.

One email folder in particular contains memories from my relationship with Mr. Big.

I am a lover of words (reasonably obvious statement) and simply put he loved to write them for me. Most mornings on the way to work he would compose some sort of witty rhyme or poem to make me laugh, smile or just generally try to make my morning brighter. I must have 100 little vignettes. I would go back to them every now and then, like someone delving into a box of old love letters. In the beginning I would try and figure out how something could change so dramatically, then figure out if I missed him, then stare in disbelief, and finally, merely look at fading memories and to wonder at them a little.

As I was cleaning, aka. deleting, my mouse hovered for a few moments over his folder, aptly named 'The Other Side'. Not thinking much of it, and yet not ready to make any sort of decision I simply moved to another. But after a morning of cleaning, and no careful consideration whatsoever, I returned. I looked at it. Opened it. Absent mindedly scrolled down. Closed it. Pressed delete. And found a slight smile on my lips. I no longer need any of his words and it's the nicest little bit of closure I think I've had in a very long time. How does the old saying go? Sooner or later the things in love you lose. I feel whole again, and I never thought that feeling could come from losing something which at one time had seemed so important.

Interestingly enough the artist formally known as Mr. Big is the only ex boyfriend no longer talk to. It wasn't uncomplicated but it was lovely. And maybe because it was so complicated I kept his notes, his words, those reminders of him at all. Hidden from myself. Folder within folder within folder. But still there. I think I have needed evidence of him to push me forward. To push me to know that another love, and a better love exists. I'm finally grateful for my heart ache. A thought that is hard to grapple with. It takes away none of the pain, fear, hurt or pure survival of the breakup. But it does put a neat little end to it as far as I'm concerned.

And to know that on this sunny London day I'm going to be just fine and I'm honestly happy again, well that's is a feeling that, for a long time, I never thought I would have. So whilst I'll take some things with me to the Big Apple, like photos, old bills and sentiments from my mother, something’s I'll be happily leaving behind. Maybe sometimes moving on is about looking back from a different direction, feeling a smile on your lips and believing things only ever get better, never worse, only better.