If you love her, let her go, if she's meant for you, she'll come back

Of course, the statement is good, especially when you say it to someone else. Everything becomes more difficult when you apply it to yourself. Because then it hurts a little, you are not sure that she will come back. Maybe the object of your love is not that attached to you, maybe it is just a few weeks of infatuation that will inevitably end.

But here is the most excellent test. Maybe even better than a joint trip, or a vacation for two by the breaking waves of the ocean. When you belong only to each other and the forces of nature. When when you wake up in the morning, there are no thoughts that maybe you should be alone, rest. Let her leave now, as men often think. And in the evening she will return, of course. No, at that moment there is an electric feeling of mutual attraction, when you want to hug your beloved person, close your eyes and be like that for a long, long time. All eternity. Feel the calm breathing on your shoulder. The softness of your hair when it sways when she looks at you from above.

And a wise person tells you: LET GO. Only in this way will you check whether you are meant for each other. Whether a true friendship has already been established, which, in my deep conviction, is the highest form of human communication. Because it means a community of souls. Community looking in similar directions, doing joyful activities together, helping, holding hands or even carrying, some do not succeed when the world turns its harsh side on you. When despair seizes you, you know, on terrible nights, watching over an indifferent and eternal moon.

Let's call her Kate. In my youth, 38 years ago, I lost my mind, as they say, because of her. Then for the first time I experienced what “butterflies in the stomach” and other tender feelings mean. I was not even expelled from university by a hair. And all because of that mysterious Kate smile. So seductive, but not scary. You know, when a woman has selfish goals, it's very visible and we intuitively feel it. As one of my French fellow travelers said, “women can be dangerous sometimes.” Kate was different. She had some Japanese features, which somehow resonated with me subconsciously. Kate also knew how to flirt so charmingly. She would say: if I'm like a sister to you, then why are you kissing me like that? Because she had a fiancé at the time, and later he became her husband for a short time. Another friend of mine at the time, who later became my wife, would say: “If Kate were free, I wouldn't be her competition.” Kate used to draw my portraits, because she was an artist. In the Japanese style.

I remember that I would always try to cuddle up to her when we were alone. He wouldn't push me away when I stroked her dark hair, touched her soft young skin, held her hands in mine. Instinctively I tried to protect, maybe there was such a paternal feeling here. I felt as if I were in a movie.

Love is not without drama. It's an axiom. And once she said the words that still ring in my ears: “I'm not meant for you, understand...” As if a person can know exactly who you are meant for. But Kate chose her fiancé. Maybe he seemed more masculine, rougher, more mysterious to her. After all, such traits are somehow more attractive to women. Maybe they expect an unboring life, when unforeseen turns in relationships or other surprises can happen every day.

Well. And two years later she broke up with the one she was “meant for” and went to live in another country. “If you love her, let her go, if she's meant for you, she'll come back.”

Our relationship broke up. Absolutely. Because I had a wife and children. And, of course, I couldn't accept the fact that she chose someone else and not me. Someone else, although he didn't love her, I'm sure, just like me. Of course, in dreams she would sometimes suddenly appear and charm with her hair and smile, so that I didn't want to wake her up. It means that love was alive inside. Maybe it always will be. But this is an idealization of the past.

And then, one fine day, wandering the city streets and in my memories, I met Kate. I could barely recognize her. Because age had taken its toll. That slender figure was gone, her gaze had faded, and her gait no longer resembled her previous one. “Hello, it's been a long time since we last saw each other,” she smiled. “Apparently, we didn't want to meet anymore if we didn't find the time,” I replied. We both lived our separate lives. Maybe we weren't really meant for each other. After all, time is the most cruel checker. So I thought, walking next to her. In the cafe we ​​told each other about our biographical events, but it was pointless to talk about feelings. You can't artificially arouse them. And you don't need to.

In the current situation.

So, meeting your former loves is not always pleasant. And meaningful. Because it sometimes causes disappointment and sadness. And suppresses the wonderful memories of youth. And in them are timid kisses, walking hand in hand, blowing in the gentle wind of the end of summer, with fluttering hair to see the moon rise behind the mountains. The moon that smiles and watches all this without judging.

And memories are our intangible wealth. Wealth that no one will steal, will not take away, which is always with us, because it is inside. In our soul. And in our thoughts. Where is Kate at twenty years old, smiling slyly and annoyingly, with dimples in her cheeks and unruly strands of dark hair on her bare shoulders. Tiny, light as a feather, take it and carry it. You would lay it in a hammock and she would say: “thank you.” And after looking at me for a long time with her black eyes, she would ask: “Do you really love me?” As if she didn't know...