I pride myself on having a pretty good memory. When I care deeply about something, I sort of photograph it – not with a camera, but with my soul. I allow the moments to be permanently etched into my mind for safe keeping.
I remember meeting you. I remember your shaggy hair adorned with a white bandana and your sly smile. Our first meeting was also the date of our first feisty dispute. Flirting with you was the highlight of the entire event. I remember the moment you messaged me with your phone number and an invite to lunch. The school year ended with me believing you weren’t worth all the lovely things I was feeling, because I’d heard just as many undesirable stories and my best friend’s heart was broken. I remember moving into my new house. I was anxious to start a new year and a new life. I remember hearing the distinct ping of Facebook chat and seeing your name at the bottom of my screen. I hadn’t spoken to you in months. We weren’t friends. I remember the way my stomach jumped and my curiosity spiked.
I remember a lot of things.
I remember the way we laughed and you wrote a funny poem about the little bird that flew in your window… I remember the way your face looked when I pulled my hand away on our cold December date… I remember the way I cried in the shower on the night of my twenty-first birthday. I had just learned about my parents getting a divorce and decided to write of finding someone to share my life with – your voice was echoing in my head; you were speaking the one word no guy had ever said to me, but I longed to hear.
I was so afraid of it; I’m not sure when it happened… I’m not even sure how it happened. We were friends one day. We were so much more the next.
I fell in love with you.
I believe you fell in love with me, too.
Growing up, I had a lot of sleepovers. In third grade I hosted my first slumber party, complete with sleeping bags and a pancake breakfast. After that I was hooked. I fell in love with sleepovers. I’d spend the day with my best friend at the pool, or the park, or the local movie theater. We would build forts behind her house and protect them from the pirates and Indians hiding behind the fairy filled bushes. We collected bugs and picked flowers. We’d go out every morning in ruffles and pigtails and come back damp with mud, having spent the daylight hours exploring the neighborhood woods. The sun would set, but we would still be having a grand old time, so I would call my mom and beg her to let me stay the night.
As I got older, I stopped playing muddy games of make-believe. I never stopped having sleepovers.
I still remember walking down Greek path with Jessica on a humid August afternoon sharing the story of the previous night’s adventure. Our friendship was still forming when we spread out across your queen-sized bed under a pile of blankets and watched a movie intended for children until our eyes refused to remain open. To this day I still don’t know how The Golden Compass ends. We fell asleep that night with our arms just barely touching. Our sleepovers became tradition for a while. Every week I would count down the minutes till the weekend, and every weekend I would anxiously wait to hear the ping of a Facebook chat inviting me over.
Time went by and we moved closer. I would listen to the sound of your heart beating in your chest. I felt safe in your arms… To me, they were the arms of a best friend.
We went on a date. It was a disaster. (I loved every minute of it.)
We talked each other to sleep every night… We stopped talking at all.
We learned to forgive.
We kissed.
We went to the lake. We fell apart.
We became masters of the silent treatment. Never more than a few blocks away from the other - often only rooms apart - we ignored the other’s presence. We made a mistake.
We fell back into each other’s lives… and into your bed.
Knowing you has been a roller coaster. It is one of those old, wooden coasters that bumps you back and forth so much that by the time you climb off your head aches and you wonder why you ever got on in the first place. But even so, you find yourself getting back in line. You want another go. The way your blood rushes and your heart pounds make everything worth it. You make the hairs on my arms stand on end. You are my roller coaster.
I guess that makes college the amusement park. It’s closing, but I’m not ready to get off.
I was sure that given time I would eventually be able to call you my boyfriend… But we ran out of time. Or, at least, that’s my understanding of the situation. I’m afraid of the way time never seems to be on my side.
I am not good at goodbyes. I keep saying, “Goodbye forever.” I don’t know why. I know I’ll see you again. I suppose it’s because my future is so uncertain. I am preparing for the worst, and right now the worst thing I can think of is saying goodbye and it being forever.
But this isn’t goodbye forever.
This isn’t really even goodbye.
This is just, “See you later.”
Give it enough time and I will be back in your arms and in your bed. Like I said I fell in love with slumber parties. When you love something you have to let it go sometimes, but you will always come back to it… I fell in love with you.
See you later.
(via wishawaytheday)
