February 29, 2016. Leap Day.
Here is what I remember:
Sophia — a Monday, the first day I spent with her. Six months later she’d be gone forever. A car crash on Labor Day weekend. She was my age.
But on this day, I’d be gone too.
Pizza Hut first. Then a walk. I always want to walk and talk and he knew, he knew.
“Have you made up your mind?” And I had. And that was it.
No fight. Never a fight. Not to keep me.
It’s the last time I kissed him. I don’t even think he wanted me to. But we were outside in the dark, the lake behind us, and I had to. I had to. Then I went inside and I packed a bag and I left.
I took a bottle of wine and a wine opener with me. Priorities. Medicine.
I called my mom in the car, I think.
I drove to a hotel without a reservation.
I drank red from a plastic cup hotel room cup. My friends watched the Merlin pilot with me from afar. Live Snapchatting our favorite lines. “Do you know how to walk on your knees?”. I saved the pictures. Bare feet on the bed.
I do not know how I was okay. I was not. But the grief comes later, after the logistics. That day it was just the decision.
The awful talk. I barely remember the words. Only that he was right — I had made up my mind and that was it.
I couldn’t have taken it back if I wanted to.
I never wanted to — not really. Except for when I did. But not really.
Eight years gone from one of the worst days of my life. From one of the best decisions of my life. In the end, we were both trapped. In the end, we both needed to be free.
So my friend reminds me:
Here’s to that brave leap.
And all the magic created since.
With Love,
Natalie
