Blue Kitchen

We often would talk about what life would be like when we lived together. We'd talk about where the kids would sleep and if we'd keep my roommate in the house (yes, Adam you were staying). But one thing that always was brought up was the kitchen. It was the room in my house that needed the most attention. She liked the idea of making the color and theme blue. We'd send texts with different ideas of décor and paint. I couldn't wait to get started.


A week before she left she brought over a blue spatula. She said it was the first piece to our kitchen. I was overjoyed. But then it my world ended. Without warning. She kissed me goodbye before she went to get her car fixed and told me she'd be over that night. She never came over. I got a phone call and it was done.


I could write endlessly on my feelings about the breakup. About what I was told. About what actually happened. Where and what she's up to now. But that's not the point of this. That's not the story I am here to tell. That's the story she has to live with now, and I am sure she's right where she wants to be. She's picked her place and I'm sure she's happy.


I deleted everything off my phone. I kept looking at her pictures, she really is a beautiful girl. I reread every single message over and over, breaking my own heart a million times, again and again. So I had to delete them. But as I did a came across three screen shots that were sent a week before she left. One is her talking about a triple bunk bed for all our kids to share one room. Another was about how she couldn't wait to come over for some romance. The last was her telling me she wanted to live with me. All sent a week before she left. Before she started her new life without me.


I will never understand loving someone and telling them all the things that were told to me, just to take it all back a few days later and move on like it never happened. I'll never understand going from the intense and passionate partners we were to complete strangers. But this is my cross to carry.


I want to delete those last screen shots. But they're all I have left when the world made sense. They're all I have left when the girl I loved, seemingly loved me too. They're all I have left in a world where my kitchen was blue, not my feelings.