A while back I had written something similar to what is here. Unfortunately,  I accidentally deleted it.  I’ve attempted to recreate it here.

I remember those early days of starting a relationship. Of falling in love when we didn’t even know that was what we were doing. We  unpacked our stories one by one, telling and telling, wanting to know everything all at once, yet savoring the slow unraveling of each other’s past. I loved these days. Once the stories were all told, we slipped into a different space of being comfortable in our past while building the stories of our future. Children came and they became our new story. We doted on each thing they did until we wondered what we ever had to talk about before they come into our lives.  We got lost in their living.   Years passed and we became unrecognizable.  Strangers awkwardly sharing an intimate space.  The distance between us too difficult to cross.  We turned our backs and walked away.