I saw this gate among his Facebook photos. I long to live behind it with him. This Louisiana town was ready for us, I thought, ready for the young love, and the wild spirits we both possessed. He still visits every year; I, on the other hand, have never seen what surrounds this gate, never have I seen what lies behind it. To me, this gate is a symbol for what my life was supposed to be; a life far south of New York. A life in New Orleans. Something in my head always tells me that there is a place for me there; behind the wrought iron heart-shaped fence, that the "no parking anytime" sign wouldn't apply to us; that he and I could have the life we set out to. Me, a writer, him, a senator, son of a doctor. We could hold hands strolling by, laughing at what we left behind. Dreaming at night of the life we had always wanted, knowing it was ours. Forever.