I've been thinking about you a lot the past couple days. It's not just the time of year, though I do remember Christmas with your family, and the blue pullover you bought for me. And it's not just because the cold reminds me of us walking on the levee, snow falling on your brown hair, hot chocolate by the fireplace, the smell of sweet smoke in your hair. Journey, The Stones, and The Beatles ruled the stereo.

Alas, I was but a stupid kid and, looking back, leaving you was quite possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done. At the time my reasons for doing so felt valid, but I now see the shallowness of my rationale. I honestly believe that if I'd been just a tiny bit more mature, we'd still be together today.

I remember waking one morning feeling something had changed. My little mind interpreted this change as no longer being in love with you. It never even occurred to me that it might just be a phase. The newness wearing off. No, in my extreme view of the world it had to be something bigger. I was convinced I no longer loved you. I can only imagine your hurt.

We ended quick and clean. You never called, sobbing. Too proud for that. I, in all my arrogance, never looked back. Convinced better things awaited just down the next road.

Twenty-something years later, I'm still on that road. Better things, I've yet to find, and sometimes I'm sure I've lost my way. Friends and lovers come and go, some like a butterfly softly alighting on the back of my hand, others like a 747 crushing my skull. My feet grow tired, my vision blurs, but the road shows no sign of ending.

Stupid, stupid kid.