I think I’m ready to write about what happened that day it was raining.

I think I’m ready to reflect on the hours Clau and I spent in my bed, looking at the ceiling and talking. Or how we used to push my mattress halfway off the frame so it became a couch for watching films. I remember how tightly Claudia would wrap herself around me as we lay there together, as close as any human beings have ever been to one another.

Most days kissing her was sweet like fruit, but other days she was more smoky like a backyard barbecue. Her smooth lips formed perfectly against mine. They set like smooth granite on her face, pulling out from her chin and her cheeks into smooth ribbons. She pulled them tight when pensive and curled the bottom one out when joking.

Claudia has become the one to be reckoned with; the monster in my mind against whom all other women will be compared. She is not the first mental monster I’ve contended with, but I hope she is the last. Because I’m ready for permanence. I’m ready for this battle against mental comparison in my mind to cease.

I’m tempted to go back to Guatemala and visit Claudia, but fearful the real five-foot-nothing woman won’t measure up to the seductive giant I’ve built her up to be in the 7 months since I left her.

Our escapades in coffee shops, the work we did and the jokes we made all seem so distant now. So small. I guess they are. It depends on what sort of substance you think the past is made of.

I’ll probably stop thinking of Claudia eventually, it may just take another Clau to rise up and take her place. It’s like Damien Rice said, “I can’t get my mind off of you/until I find someone new.”


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