Walking Home

As I was walking home tonight, I bought a sandwich.

It was a chicken fajita. Only it arrived in an ordinary roll. The
Italian girl asked in stammering English what I would like as I was
taken on a tour of the bar's ingredients.

Later, dripping chillis and chilli sauce onto the street, I watched the
girl I've known for years act her normal self and wondered what might
have happened, had I not been afraid and pulled away a year ago.

And now, sitting here in bed, I'm thinking back to just a few months
ago, to another time when I pulled away and left for fear of becoming
trapped in somewhere I'd been before.

Wondering what could have been. Would she have been the first? Where
would we be now?

But the past lurked behind her too strongly then, like chains of her
own making. Back then, I was relieved yet sad.

Now, I remind myself that I'm not supposed to care. That I'm supposed
to let it all slide.

But as I listen to the music of my teenage years, I'm not sure I want
to let go.

I read something once - "envious time is fleeing - seize the day, put
no trust in the future."

I could wait for nothing to happen.

Or I could pick up the phone.