My ex had a birthday recently. His 39th.
I wonder if he’s still alive. At the end of it all, he seemed to be on a collision course with an early death.
I wonder if any wrinkles or grey hairs have started to appear. I used to look forward to growing old with him.
I wonder if he still lives in the area. I hope not. In fact, I would like it if he took a job at the research station in Greenland. Or maybe started growing potatoes on the moon.
I wonder if he’s lonely. Or scared. Or still addicted.
I wonder what he thinks about our past. His actions. My reactions.
I wonder if he’s living an honest life now. Or if he’s still playing hide and go seek. Only without the seeking.
I wonder if he’s happy. I hope he is. I had years of wishing him ill. I’m past that now.
It’s such a strange feeling having somebody go from being your every-thing and your constant to suddenly being a no-thing and a gaping absence. I don’t love him. I don’t hate him. I don’t even miss him. But after so many years, it’s hard not to wonder about him.
And I wonder if he ever wonders about me too.