If you build it, they will come

She stood 5'11 and looked me right in the eyes, her green ones to my grey. Her hair was shoulder length, brown and shiny; mine hung down my back, long and blonde. She just turned 39, I was about to turn 32. I had only just met this woman who spoke the language of my own life, and I realized just how interconnected we all are.

It was the hardest thing, she said. They had only been dating a few months. He was older and divorced twice. She told me that he said he loved her, but there wasn't a future for them. She looked on the verge of tears and said the hardest thing was knowing.

My mother used to tell me, don't ask a question if you're not prepared for the answer. This has been my philosophy all along. So I don't ask. Some might say this is a form of detachment. I disagree. The vines grow deep and strong in my soul and it takes years, lifetimes, for them to dissolve.

She began to speak about the need to reconnect with someone, anyone, and her path down the alley of old ghosts. She spent time with a boy she loved when she was 17. How it didn't work then, How it wouldn't work now. She spent time with a man she loved at 27. And then she said she would have to upload her match.com profile once again. "If I build it, they will come" she smiled at me.

I think about the man in my life now, how his smile makes his eyes crinkle up. I think of his arms wrapping around me, of lifting my chin up to kiss him, and how my favorite moments are the quiet ones, on the couch. Serenity in various forms. But I also think of this woman...and how she must have felt this very same way about her relationship. My past relationships have taught me to wait for the other shoe to drop. But this summer...I will go barefoot.