19 in 1991

61id7dm4b6L._SY679_It wasn’t like the summers we have nowadays, with an extended warm spring and the rain setting in half-way July.
Not like this year, where every half day of sunshine is compensated by torrential rain, and you start using central heating before the holiday ends and school begins.
It wasn’t anything like that.
There are pictures of the hot day I moved out of my parents house, sun lit pics posing in front of my new house, happy.
Bright hanging trees on my introduction camp from University 
and a group photo with a radiant 19 year old me beaming between all the shorts-wearing boys from my class.
I would develop a crush on almost all of them, yet by Christmas the feelings were gone.
They didn’t stick.
I met the love of my life, and it would take me a whole year before I recognized him as such.
I met my muse, a man I still think about frequently. Yet it would take me 14 years before I started writing about him.
 It’s been 20 years and I know that sometimes the significance of something, or someone, is not clear at the moment itself.
 I left the love of my life a few years ago, he is now living with another woman.
And I never saw my muse again.
Since two months I have a boyfriend, Valentijn. It’s my first relationship since I became single in my mid 30s.
 Valentijn is young, ambitious, figuring out his life. Yesterday he had his first day of his higher education.
 New people, new girls. The first day at college had been a true peak experience, and one he wanted to share with me, so he called me at night.
 From the two of us, he’s the romantic one;
 Ensuring me he wants me to be part of his life, not to worry, not to compare, and he hugs me and tells me to have faith.
 Yet I know, there is no way of telling what is significant, or who.
 But he’ll know that 20 years from now.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

19 in 1991 was originally sent out as a newsletter 31 August 2011
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