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not all love should be forgotten.

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It took Jo March a long time to realise that she loved someone. But once she realised, she wouldn’t forget.

It’s possible to love people and let them go, you know.

She knew she would never forget Teddy. Teddy and his chaotic ways. Teddy and his fits of impulsivity; where only going to the harbour and feeling the salty air on his face would settle his ache to buy a ticket and run away to the Southern Indies.

She still loved him, sometimes. When she lay in bed in the middle of the night and desperately wanted to bake a cake and ice it, but when she got to the kitchen the cold tiled floors would send her crawling back into bed at three AM – those times would remind her of Teddy. And she would smile to herself.

Some love is hard to forget.

But she was happy that he was a past love. Maybe she just didn’t want to let him go because his going would feel like a part of herself going too. And that part of herself was so intricately intwined into the threads of her heart that she may very well die from it; or at the very least, her heart would stop beating.

Some love is easy to remember.

She would always remember her Friedrich. Forgetting him was impossible. Remembering him was like thinking about how to spend her day; a comfortable, familiar, personal thing that stayed with her always.

When he held her hand she was quite sure that she didn’t know how to let go. He would have to do the letting go because she for sure wasn’t going to.

So when he let go of her hand for the last time –

She had always known it would be that way.

Some love cannot stay for long, you know.

Jo March supposed that she would not love again. It was simply an impossible thing. Two loves were far more than enough for any mind and heart and soul to handle. Especially when she kept on loving them both; they refused to let go of her heart and she wasn’t going to be the first one to let go.

Perhaps she would write about it.

Surely not all love has to be forgotten.