I never really believed in soul-mates. I know that's shocking, but it's true.
I never quite bought into the belief that you could be destined to love someone, that there was only one possible person for you, and that nothing could change that, even if it was wrong or unhealthy or unsafe.
But don't feel sorry for me, I'm married to an equally unromantic soul, who strongly believes that love is a choice. And I think I'm lucky. My husband chooses to love me, every day, and there's something so sweet, so romantic, so real about that choice.
He doesn't have to choose to love me, but he does.
But I like this idea, that soul-mates are just the people who make you the most you.
I can definitely believe in soul- mates like Anne of Green Gable's believed in "kindred spirits," those people who innately understand you, who's spirit's are like yours in some undefinable way.
Last night I had a short pity party, a small little cry, because I was aching for my family and friends. I knew moving would be hard, but mostly I've enjoyed it. But there are moments when my new friends are not enough, they are not quite right, they are not quite the same as the old ones, the ones who are my soul-mates, with whom I feel truly myself.
I may never be as completely comfortable here as I was in my home town, with everyone and everything I knew. And I can live with that, mostly.
But I miss you, soul-mates. I miss being me, with you.