Before it’s too late

I was just sitting here.

Waiting for a patient to call. Watching my slideshow. Thinking of nothing really in particular, except wishing it would rain again, which it won’t.

and a picture of you flashes across the screen

lingers for three seconds

and then dissolves

Now, I had forgotten until now that there was a photo of you in there. I don’t remember why I ever added you but I’m sure it had something to do with the sad, misplaced idea that you actually had a spot in my life. You have to understand-the folder where I keep my photos is a church to me. The only thing that is a small comfort is the fact that there was only one, which means my common sense was still shrieking from that box that my loneliness had locked it in. If you would have been a part of me, truly a part of me, I would have set you in my presence forever. Once you’re in that folder, you don’t get deleted. Usually. I still have pictures of people in there that I do not like whatsoever, but they were there and it’s part of the story. But you, lol. You. Deep down on a level where all of our subconscious things grow, I knew you were temporary.

I put my work phone on Personal Away From Desk, went to my Mac, lassoed up odrive, and hunted you down like an alcoholic hunts down a shot. It didn’t take much digging; you are the only one of you in there, even if you are hiding somewhere in the midst of 90,000 others. It was that grainy 2006-07 webcam pic of you, my former favorite, where you’re wearing a cap and you look Puerto Rican, one of the first pictures you ever sent me. I didn’t linger on it. Drop down menu, delete. Go to trash, delete. Resync odrive, no more screen time for you. Neat and quick. You remember how that goes, don’t you, the forgetting?

I didn’t do it with sadness or malice. I didn’t do it with regret. One of those things was simply not like the other. I am writing about it because it reminds me of how far I’ve come. When it comes to you, there’s a very little way to go.

There are many times when my being alone means more than being the only one in a room, but that has nothing to do with you.

and no, this time

I am not doth protesting

because to be honest

I had forgotten your face.