Pure, simple, happy, and full of sparks. That’s the kind of relationship we had.

We talked and laughed and ate and drank without a care in the world.

MEASURING CUPS BY LUZ PINILLA 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE  ISSUE 41

He was one of the sweetest, most loving and thoughtful men I have ever known. On our very first date, after trying two different sushi places which happened to be closed, we ended up at this quirky restaurant with glass cases of beautifully decorated cakes and pastries, colorful hand-painted art on the walls.

I ordered a dish with avocado and tuna and we sat outside on the patio. We were the only people out there and we talked and laughed and ate and drank without a care in the world.

It had been warm and sunny when we arrived, but after about an hour it suddenly got windy—an extreme wind, one of those that lifts up your hair and flings it around in every direction—but we barely even noticed it because we were so wrapped up in our conversation.

But then, without warning, we heard something like a clap and in one tremendous gust the power in the whole place was blown out, sending orange sparks flying from a connection in the beams above us. We laughed, and a little while later the owner of the restaurant brought us free cheesecake because it was going to spoil due to the lack of refrigeration.

Pure, simple, happy, and full of sparks. That’s the kind of relationship we had. So many times I remember thinking how lucky I was that the person I loved so much also loved me back with the same intensity. (That’s rare, I’ve found.) We had an amazing seven or eight or even nine months, but then around the tenth month things began to change between us, and it wasn’t him.

It was me. Or maybe it was both of us, but I was the only one who saw it. I tried to fight it, but when love fades sometimes there’s nothing you can do except step to the side and let it pass, so that’s what I did.