Karina’s Getting Married

I found out the way you find out about these things now—a notification, something in a feed. Karina’s getting married in twelve days. She was my first real love, which is a strange thing to be at this point, because it just means I learned what wanting felt like before I understood that wanting isn’t keeping, and keeping isn’t forever.

Time doesn’t move for years, and then suddenly it’s moved everywhere. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine, and then someone you touched is moving into a life you’ll never see, and all you get is the fact of it. The strange part isn’t that she’s getting married—that’s what people do, they move forward, find someone, build something. The strange part is that you still know her. Not who she is now, but who she was. What she smelled like. The specific angle of her face when she thought you might be it. And all of that is real and means nothing to anything anymore.

I’m happy for her. I mean it sincerely. And I think that’s when you know you’re actually old—not when you feel it, but when everyone you loved is settling into real lives and you’re just aware of it. Getting old is just watching.