My parents are ridding themselves of all of our stuff, so they can begin their new Empty Nest life. I just received a huge box of all of my journals, from age 16 through age 24. I pulled a couple out last night to peruse through, and I probably shouldn't have. I am in a funk today. It's hard looking back at a former self. Half of the time, you think, "What was I thinking? I was so immature!" And the other half, I was blown over by how much better I knew myself back then.

I had a best friend back then, a guy named Jesse, and we considered being more, then considered not, then gave it a try, then broke each other's hearts. Over and over, for about eight years. Finally, I told him to leave me alone, and he did... and went off and got married. Then I fell in love with Jason and got married. We both chose the right lives for ourselves. But the truth is, I really really miss him. I know that we can't be a part of each other's lives-- spouses wouldn't understand. But sometimes, I just wish I had an evening to talk to him again.

I guess I just learned the hard way-- the heartbreaking way-- that you aren't necessarily supposed to marry your soul mate. I love my husband, but he isn't my soul mate. I am constantly finding little treasures and pits and cavities of Jason's personality that I never knew existed. He's rowdy, then he's gentle. He drives me crazy and I think I'll never understand him, then he surprises me in the sweetest ways. I remember one night, right before we started dating, I looked at him and knew that we'd have children together and grow old together. When I met Jesse, it was like I'd known him forever and we were already old souls. I knew him better than I knew myself. Jason and I are growing together... with Jesse there wasn't anywhere to go.

So many times, I will see something or be reminded of an old joke of ours, and I wish he was there to share it with. Even a phone call. But he's not. It's just not possible. It's like a death in my life that nobody else knows about. I'm the only one grieving.