All In A Day

It was a regular Wednesday when I asked a simple question of him. I needed advice.

By Saturday, we’d launched into at least 5 separate discussions. Some deep, philosophical topics. Some everyday observations. The conversation flowed easily.

It was late on a cold Monday when the discussions turned more personal. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the easy exchanges we’d shared prior to this – I shared things with him that I had never shared before. I ended our conversation quicker this time. Why did I say that?

Days went by. It felt like only hours we had to get to know each other, and it felt like I’d known him my entire life. It felt like he knew me more than I knew myself. In a short time he went from a casual acquaintance to the most significant adult in my life.

He came to see me on a Thursday. I was nervous. I didn’t understand why. It’s just friends connecting. But it was important to me – talking to him in person. It was a good Thursday. I’m not sure my smile faded much before Sunday. How is it so easy to talk to him?

The days came and went. With each one we grew closer. I shared more. I asked more. I learned more. I smiled more. I looked forward to each new day. When it got to 100 days I laughed to myself and wondered if we should celebrate.


It was just a Thursday to him the day he walked out of my life. For me it was the day a chasm opened in my world that would take months to close. It seemed so easy for him to gather his things and say goodbye. I stood in disbelief. Never quite understanding what happened.

More days passed, one bleeding into the other without meaning or purpose.

It was a hot Saturday morning when I got up at 5 am and started walking, trying to shake the blues. At 10 I walked some more to push back the anger. By 2 I just couldn’t sit still. At 8 and 10 pm I was just trying to outrun the hurt. Thirteen miles I walked that day. And got nowhere.

A lonely Friday found me writing to him. The words flowed on and on, never ending, pouring out my every thought – or most of them.

I got so many messages from him one rainy Wednesday. Like two old friends chatting again. Like he’d never walked away. But he did.

It was a Tuesday when my strength ran out. Or when it finally built up enough. It was a Tuesday when I said ‘no more.’ He had chosen to walk out of my life, but I left the door open. It was a Tuesday when I finally closed that door.

It was another Tuesday many weeks later when I got the “I love you” message. The one I didn’t want. I just let it sit there. I closed that door.

One Saturday brought I miss you and I miss us. I let those sit, too.

So many days swirled around in my head. Just going through the motions.

The day he confessed his sins, the abuse of my trust in him, was just another Saturday. He felt better now. It relieved his guilt. To me, it was the day I realized the 8 years prior to opening up to him – the years when I did not trust anyone – that’s when I was doing it right. My trust was misplaced.

Early on a Thursday he tried to justify his decision to confess to me. Honesty. That Thursday I found my voice and said ‘no.’ The time for honesty has passed.

There are still days with messages. Each day – the door is still closed.

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