PARTING (any gender, late twenties to late forties)
When I leave your side, when I leave this village, you may feel pain. I know that I'll be feeling a certain sting upon our parting of ways. And this time it-- but no...
I only want to say this to ease your mind, if I can: I want you to imagine five years from now, a new love will be in your life, yes, it will happen, believe me. You're beloved will give you children and will be at your side to raise them. And as you two share all the joys of family and support each other through all the hardships day and night, year after year, you will think this:
"Gods be praised, for I cannot imagine having any of this... had I bound myself to a warrior."
I've been told as much before when I've come across former companions. No. I don't mean to hurt you by telling you that you're not my only one.
Most of my life, each mission, I take comfort with someone. And perhaps it IS cruel that I tell you this but I fear it would be even crueler to tell you... to tell you that you will be my last.
Because for all the ones I've had during my travels... you are the one who could make me give it all up. I can see myself with you, I can see myself turning my back on the order and starting a new life here, with you. Five years from now, the two of us. I feel an aching for that.
But I know that I would no longer be myself.
And so I must keep going. And you must go on as well. And now I fear I have indeed made our parting all the worse. Perhaps that is the nature of what I do best: My kind rarely suffers without making sure someone else suffers even more.
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes.
If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"