When Husband returned home tonight we had a couple of glasses of wine and talked about an odd assortment of things. Somehow we got onto the subject of that very 'first kiss' and the way it can make us feel. He thinks that to go back with the knowledge we have now would spoil all those first experiences. I think it would add to the intensity of feeling. We mulled over our previous lives, the important things, the way that, when you're younger things seem so much more intense.
After a while I found myself in tears. It was unintentional and I felt ashamed, trying to hide, but he knows me too well. I always find it hard to look forward and often look back to the golden years with fondness but possibly through rose coloured spectacles. Husband was surprised at my tears. He doesn't know a great deal about my previous relationships. The intensity of my first love, the passion, the endless range of emotions and, even now, how it is all so very vivid and still raw.
It was a great love. A love (and lust) which I know I will never experience again. Which was destined to exist only for a while, but even so, consumes me now. It lasted 10 years, off and on, and every moment is etched indelibly on my heart, my soul, my being. I am blessed that I have experienced such emotion, for some never do.
My tears are not for the past. For that worked itself out and can never be relived. The tears are for the present and the future. The absence of that passion, that first love, that emotion. I know those emotions have been replaced by a comfort and solidness that others long for. A comfortable family life. A normal life. No risks, no searing pain, no excitement, no heart wrenching fondness.
I have so much to be thankful for. But to carry on in a passionless life is like living in a world of pastel hues. Pretty, nice, but just a little faded.