I haven’t put pen to pad in a year or so. The reason? I’ve
been too happy. You know the formula – dream job, dream city, dream guy. Even
more than that, I’m about to get married to this superman, and we’re dashing
off to an exotic honeymoon across the world where we will start our adventure
together called life. Maybe add a baby to the equation at some point soon. It doesn’t
get better than this. It really doesn’t. So, why in the world have I taken up
writing (again) today (of all days)?
A trigger.
Have you ever been truly blissful riding the waves of a
perfect relationship when suddenly you see something you shouldn’t – like a
photograph of your guy with his ex?
Yeah, you know, that
photograph.
And you nearly choke on your own shock. You aren’t gasping
at the picture itself, but at the frozen moment in time when your ex was – or
appeared – just as happy with her as he is now with you? Worse yet, in that
brief second (okay, maybe it was a minute or two) when you looked as closely as
you could at those dozens of photographs of him with her (and her with him)
(and them together), you could just swear that in a couple, he looked happier.
Like, maybe just maybe, his smile was wider, less forced. His eyes could’ve
dazzled a little brighter. His face was more relaxed, not as much obligated. He
looked at her differently. Sweeter? Lighter? And it made you doubt.
Yes, that photograph.
In one – you know you saw it (in fact, it just may be
emblazoned in your memory and not even the eternal sunshine of the spotless
mind could erase it) – he held her hand tighter. He kissed her longer. He
rested his head against her cheek, and it all just meant more to him. There was
so much joy it nearly made you forget the joy you and he have together as you
approach your upcoming future. Damn. Why in the world did you have to see those
stupid pictures on his computer?
Well, I did.
In fact, as I was trying to upload our first engagement
photo onto his Apple, as I was trying to make that photo “our” new screen
saver, there “they” were – hidden in a folder that he tried so obviously to
delete when we first started dating. But, in this day and age, you can’t
“delete” anything, can you?
Because there are hard drives. And they drive a hard
bargain. On the one hand, I get a larger-than-life movie theater computer
screen with every application under the electronic sun and speed faster than light. On the other, I get a
folder of tiny picture squares of him and his ex looking just as in love then as we are
now.
So what did I do?
I did what any woman would. Of course I double-clicked on the
folder, and lo and behold there was a larger-than-life picture of the
love-of-my-life and his perky ex looking straight at me. With their arms wrapped
around each other’s shoulders, a younger (and what appeared to be) happier
version of my man leaned his head onto the shoulder of another (younger)
version of me. It’s an image I’ll never forget. Even if he has already
forgotten it, it’s an image I’ll wonder if he’s actually forgotten for quite
some time.
Wasn’t it so much easier when we could just tear memories up?
It would take a mechanical engineer to figure out a way to
get rid of that hard drive of his and, as a result, now mine.
This is one of the many pitfalls we face in our high tech
world – we can’t really “delete” anything try... as… we… might. Computers have
taken over our minds, and as consequence our hearts. No matter how hard we try
to “start anew,” there is always an encrypted folder containing our past life.
When we see those pictures of days gone by, we wonder how “past” they just
might be. And we ache.
We ache.
I wish I hadn’t seen those pictures. I sure know that my
soon-to-be husband shared that wish as he dashed to his computer to figure out
a way, hopeless as he knew it would be, to erase them from his hard drive and,
more importantly, my memory. But this is the world we live in now. Everything
is saved and stored (and backed up after that). It doesn’t matter how deep we try
to go, there’s an image – a thumbprint – that contains the original story and
it just won’t go away. There is no way around it, except, I suppose, to throw
out the actual generator. Toss the computer out the window. Burn it. That would
seem extreme though. Who has the money to buy a new computer every few years? I
certainly don’t.
I guess there is only one solution, and it’s the basic one.
How ironic that the solution amidst the crevices of the tangled web of code
that surrounds us is the most basic. But it is. I have to accept that the
person I love has a past (just as he has accepted mine). Amidst the
electricity, it’s simply called… real life. And, despite a delete or pause or
minimizer button, sometimes it hurts no matter what.
