Seattle is Full of Ghosts

Dear ex lover, would you kindly extract yourself from my subconscious?  Letting go of you is hard enough with out you creeping into my dreams, holding me and reminding me of how you smell and how you feel…and kissing me, well that was just cruel.

I awoke in a groggy funk this morning.   I blame my sisters air freshener, it side swiped me yesterday when I moved into her apartment.  It’s the same one Mathew had in his room and the first thing I would smell when I walked into his house. (Those Glade plug ins are surprisingly powerful little bastards).  I unplugged it when I was home alone last night, but kept walking by, picking it up, and smelling it in moments of weakness. …So I guess that I am as much to blame as Glade for my restless dreams last night.

My sisters apartment is the last place I will be staying until I leave for Europe.  She lives about an hour bus ride from downtown but that didn’t stop me from packing up my purse, putting the plug in down, and heading to town for a cup of tea and some sort of sweet, sugary comforts.  I couldn’t stay inside today. So I went to Dilettante, a chocolaterie, full of truffles and cakes.  I’m pretty sure that this breakup is going to give me diabetes, but…mmmm…Thank God for raspberry cream cheese brownies.

Unfortunately my escape was not that cleverly planned because this is the cafe where Matthew and I had coffee the first day I met him…Hmmmmm

In my story, Seattle is The Home of the Ghosts of Boyfriends Past.  Almost every man I have ever loved I have either met or lost here.  It’s one of the reasons that I decided to move away.  Every corner of the city is haunted by someones memory.  Every time I have a break up I will purge furniture. dishes, things that hold too many memories, and I give them to my sister.  So my sisters house, the place where I am staying, is like a little museum of my history.  The bed I’m sleeping on was from the era of the white knight, whom I was with after the starving artist broke my heart, (the man I was dating when I bought the birdhouse candle holder that’s on display in the corner of the room).  There’s a dark wooden table in my sister’s living room, the base of it is shaped like a mermaid, the top of it is glass.  I bought it when I was 20 and dating my first love in Germany, right before I met my ex husband… and all of this smells like Matthew.

But that’s okay because I didn’t come to rainy, dreary Seattle to escape my ghosts.  Sometimes the best way to let go of something is to face it.  I want to be free.  I want to stand right here in the middle of the gray, graveyard and grieve, and reminisce, forgive, and let you go, my ghosts…with love.

**(and with the gentle help of friends, tea, cake, cookies and many, many brownies.)