rss feed
5.15.2008
“Me, on the other hand, I continue to think of you always. I miss your scent. I miss the way it feels to hold you. I miss the way you’d playfully kiss me…and I hate it how my eyes start to well up as I reminisce and reality strikes that you’re so far away…”
…
We met at a bar in Fullerton. I didn’t really notice you at first. I had just gotten out of one of those long winter relationships. You know, those ones that make you feel like you’re emerging from hibernation once they’re over. Like you’ve been living those years with your eyes closed and your heart rate slowed and suddenly, once evicted, you’re out like an ungainly newborn, discovering bright colors and new smells all over again. That was me then, and I somehow caught your eye.
I remember one time I asked you to come with me and a group of friends to see a movie that was making a big stir at the time. It had been a long work week for you (isn’t it always). You were tired and uninterested in driving an hour south to watch a movie you had already seen. I got mad and threw a fit. I’m sorry, but I’m an Aries, and I couldn’t help myself. You showered, got dressed, met me at the theater, bought our tickets. and then fell asleep as I watched the movie for the first time. I’m not sure how into me you were back then, but it’s memories like these that make it hard to erase you. I’ve deleted your number. Turned photos face down. Taped shut boxes of ticket stubs and cards and smiles and looks. Yet the shadows still float around my head. I keep the light dim for them, let them flicker around softly and uninhibitedly, because even after everything, they’re presence still comforts me.
I don’t know how it happened, or why, or when. I never asked anything of you, and never attributed any lofty ideas of love to you. But still you fell. And I wasn’t ready.
At the airport, I accidentally spilled coffee on your tie as we were saying our goodbyes. You had come on your lunch break to see me off. I looked up, apologetic, and was surprised to find tears in your eyes. You didn’t even notice the coffee stain, your thoughts so far off.
Sometimes I think in the blur of memory, our sun shone brighter, our laughter more radiant, our skin more connected. And I wonder if all those instances were ever anchored in reality. Tossed around my head, waves look like ships from a distance. Sails like clouds. Clouds like animals. I squint but that just makes them change shape.
Now, years later, I think I am finally ready for you. But you’re years away, and… how do we reclaim that distance?
…
“I wish you could’ve celebrated my birthday with me. Wearing your necklace reminds me of you.”
