A Man I Used to Know

I was standing in the dust of a storage unit,
the kind of place where time quietly settles,
when I opened a box and found myself staring at someone I used to know.

Photographs, cards, small forgotten mementos.
And there it was,
a photo from our wedding day,
capturing our first kiss as husband and wife.
We looked impossibly young.
Full of light,
full of belief.

I was married once.
Six years.
Twenty years ago.

It feels like another lifetime.
Not just long ago,
but distant, like a dream that fades the second you try to explain it.

The photos were bright.
Our smiles looked easy.
There was laughter in our posture.
We were designing a life,
talking about kids,
sharing casseroles with neighbors,
building a rhythm of togetherness.

It wasn’t perfect.
We didn’t always know what we were doing.
But it was a good life in many ways.
One shaped by hope,
routine,
shared grocery lists,
and the sound of two toothbrushes at the same sink.

Looking at those photos,
I didn’t feel sad.
But I did feel something quieter,
a kind of wonder.

Because that life looks nothing like mine now.

Now, I dance to my own symphony.

No roots, no rings,
no echoes of someone waiting in the next room.
I work from anywhere.
I run long miles along the beach.
I wake early,
walk into sunrises,
live on my own terms.

And honestly, I like this version of me.
More than I ever liked that one.
I am more thoughtful.
More honest.
More at peace with who I am and who I am not.

Still, part of me wonders.

What it would feel like
to be known daily,
to share not just memories,
but the present,
and the future.

I think about the kind of life
where someone saves your favorite coffee mug,
remembers the small things,
asks what your Tuesday looks like.

Maybe we all carry lives we didn’t live.
People we used to be.
Versions of ourselves that feel more like stories than truth.

And maybe, years from now,
I’ll open another box,
find an old journal or photo,
and not recognize the man writing this today.

And if I’ve done it right,
I’ll smile,
tilt my head,
and think…

He was someone I used to know.