The Chapter in Your Life Called San Francisco by The Lucksmiths

I realize now that I owe The Lucksmiths some fanmail.

Well, it wasn't San Francisco, but I guess that doesn't matter. It could have been anywhere. Anyway, it was a long time ago. He told me to wait and that he would be back before I even knew he was gone. And I did wait, but he didn't come back. And all I could think about was how he had gone. You've probably heard this all before. You may even know what it's like. You go through stages of thinking, when something like this happens. First you tell yourself that it's okay; any minute now, any minute, he'll be back. After a while and he isn't back yet you try to make-up excuses for him. Maybe he's really busy, maybe he has a million things to do, maybe he's staying up in a lone castle in a deserted old country where the nearest phone is a million miles away. On horseback. And then after another while, you start panicking. Oh my god, something has happened. He's broken a leg - no, both legs - and he can't walk. He fell and broke his hands and his neck and he's paralyzed. He was mugged and stabbed and they found him and brought him to the hospital, where he's just woken up and realized that you've been waiting to hear from him all this time. Then you realize that you're starting to sound like a character from a Dorothy Parker story - except even more ridiculous. And for the first time, you're just about sad and tired enough to be honest with yourself. Maybe he's not coming back. Maybe you were just never that important to him.

I wish I could say I learned my lesson, but I don't really know if there was one to learn. If there was one, it might have been lost on me. Maybe I could end by saying something like, this is why I'm not good at goodbye's, but that isn't the point either. And anyway, who is? Or maybe I could end by saying this is a story of the summer someone made me break my heart, but all I can hear, and rightly so, is a voice in my head saying "Sister, join the club."



So, tell me yours.