Twenty-two years ago, I dated a girl
from Australia. She was a grad student,
studying the philosophy of love. She adored
the cold, and would come to America
on her summer break, escaping Melbourne
heat, trading it in for Chicago snowfalls.
We’d get three months together, and then
she’d be gone for another long year.
If I could have married that girl,
I would have thought about it
seriously. That wasn’t an option back then,
and our lives diverged. We’re happy now
on our separate paths, but there will always
be a question mark in the book of the past,
the children we might have raised together,
the wondering what-might-have-been.
Today, the laws of my land have finally
caught up to the strange, unruly laws
of the heart. At least in part. She is still
an ocean away, but if I could,
I would pull that girl into my arms,
would kiss her once again, in celebration
of what is now possible, for the memory
of what might have been.
June 26, 2015