I remember the first time I saw you.

I see you approach me from the distance, sideways. In fact, I barely even noticed you. One more blurry, nameless face among so many.

I was searching that night. Following an impulse, much deeper than a momentary craving. It was as if part of my soul had recently awakened, emerging from a long slumber within a dark cave of solitude and contemplation. I had retreated there to survive, to realign my bearings, to wrestle and wallow and heal, after the accident.

The Accident.

I remember the shock. I had always been warned traveling down that lone highway, that many young travelers had dared to tempt fate, flying recklessly, ravenously down the long, treacherous stretch of asphalt.

Which is why I thought I was safe.

I imagined myself, cautious and reserved, I had never tempted fate nor feigned invincibility. I cruised happily, freely, but responsibly. I watched in envy as others, far more bold and brilliant than I, careened past me, fading away into pink and gold tipped sunsets and mysterious, distant horizons.

I can blame distraction or carelessness, but the truth be told, I believe the other Driver was on a suicide mission.

And I was the collateral.

I hardly remember the impact.

Dizzying, disoriented, I felt something warm and sticky upon my head. Broken glass. Smoke and heat rising all around me. Lights and sirens and muddled voices.

I saw myself lifted out, gingerly placed on a stretcher. I felt disconnected, numb with pain and shock.

I can't stand hospitals. I tried my utmost to submit to their care, half-hoping and half-convincing myself of the necessity. Medicated, drugged, sedated.

Deadened.

I loathed it. The sickening smell, the strange faces and masks, the contrived compassion. You only care because you have to, I wanted to shout. Arrogant, ungrateful, I know, but I couldn't help it.

Their counterfeit smiles, their soothing words, their good-intentioned words dripping in salvific honey grated my nerves.

As soon as I could muster the strength, I made my escape, stumbling past security guards, doctors and nurses. Awkwardly blending in, melting into the background.

On the street, as cars and crowds swept by me, I try to speak, but I can't. Brain damage? The thoughts begin to formulate, but they are inhibited by some insidious, unknown force.

Hit and run, they say.

My feet carried me to my former home, but the walls and old comforts seemed foreign now to me.

And so I wandered and escaped, avoiding gazes and inquiries for my wounded condition. I figured the make-up and feigned confidence could blind one, blind them all. Perhaps it did, but I'm sure my impostor did a shoddy job at best.

The darkness seemed to follow me, gathering form and personality. I heard laughs of derision, transforming into a stealthy pitter patter of feet and razor sharp teeth, clawing for my heels. I ran harder.

It was that evening that I stumbled into the Cave.

I discovered a lonely familiarity in this Cave of solitude. I should have known you would be there.

This seemed familiar, but I cannot quite place it. The ache and the anguish. My soul ripped apart, reeling from the blow, smarting from the sting of abandonment and apathy, real or imagined.

I sat at the cave's entrance days, sinking further in deep, my thoughts transforming as gravity pulled me in. No events and incidents do I recall, only the dread, the impression of it.

Not again. Dear God, not again.

I grasped unsuccessfully at former times, when crisis struck my soul, and I sense you did not fail me then. I saw no reason why you would now.

I'm just so damn tired of it all.

So I waited. In the warmth of dark solitude, I waited. Memories, slipping away, faded and dissolved into the darkness.

I fought you at first. But I soon learned my violence was misdirected and my anger misplaced. The face that I loathed soon became the face that revived me. Demons that had chased me into the cave soon recoiled and danced angrily away at the sight of us together.

And so days upon days, there we remained, clothed in soft garments of intimacy.

Some days, my body, frail and broken, pressed in against yours, shaking and sobbing. Tension sought release, sighing at its catharsis. Uncensored words exchanged. I collapse, exhausted and emptied.

Other days, forgetting the past, forgetting myself, I surrendered myself fully to you. You filled me, gently and tenderly, with passion and strength that shocked and shook me to my core, while your light flood the deepest crevices of my soul. My desires taken up into yours, my thoughts began inescapably transforming.

But most days, we remained together, wrapped up in the lovely tranquility of quiet companionship. Those were the moments I treasured most.

I do not recall the passing of time, only that days, weeks, months blended together into a seamless span of time.

I felt the difference. My wounds had long disappeared, and only scars remained. Perhaps my brain suffered from the initial blow, but the synapses fired and struck with increasingly clarity. I felt a new alignment. I felt my senses sharpened.

And I knew what I must do. I understood the Cave was meant for this season alone. For I had reveled in the comfort, memorized our rhythms, nestled deep within the gentle routine, the warmth of healing and solitude.

But it was time to go. To unfold and slowly unleash the deep-seated joy bursting from within my rejuvenated heart.

In a surge of memory, I remembered old grudges and old pain. My desires, still smarting with abandonment, rose rapidly to the surface. But with both gravity and lightness of heart, I knew what must be done.

I didn't press charges against the Driver. He had been chased down from his own demons, I expect, and I couldn't hold that against him.

Still, that conversation lingers above both of our heads. In time, I reasoned. In time.

The limp and the scars are mine, forever.

I slowly, slowly weaved my way back into the crowd. Surprised, I found myself charmed and delighted by laughter and wit and hours spent with smiling faces that lifted my spirits to new heights, nourished and fed my soul.

So enchanted was I with the crowd that I barely noticed you that evening. Though we sat by the warmth of the fire, the darkness hid the laughter in your eyes and I heard only melancholy tones.

At first.

Your words resonated and I caught their melody. Lovely, carefully crafted words laced with hidden pain. Guarded yes, but strikingly tender, catching my fascinated eye. I thought (perhaps imagined? for memory plays tricks on me now) I glimpsed myself mirrored in you.

I remember aching to speak, but feeling the chasm, I withdrew.

Self-preservation.

Certainly by only a delicate, tentative attempt of mine and an elaborate design of His, we truly met for the first time, but only after the currents of time had carried us much further along its merciless path.

And finally, upon realizing that another soul--your soul--is aching to break inside, I retreat once again, tracing my steps back to the Cave.

But it has disappeared.

Vanished. Without a trace.

Panicking, I feel defenses spring up, quite without explanation.

But I've learned to counter them, for my sake and for yours. I acknowledge as memories start to form, that this is tied to my history, my mystery that remains quite unsolved. And Wisdom, so dynamic and complex, adjusts and shifts her shapes and patterns with every moment lived, every soul encountered.

You marvel and you wonder at me, but I can only cast a longing, backwards glance at the Cave where I learned (yet again I believe although I cannot be sure) the exquisite torture and thrill of True Love.

I rejoice in this new self. But have patience with me, my dear, for I'm only slowly, slowly remembering who I was before the Accident.

For until I do, you and I will never truly collide.