We were driving to your band practice. Typical Saturday mornings. The sun shone bright and I was wearing a new outfit and my hair looked perfect. I was pleased. We made that dangerous left hand turn out of your driveway onto 206 and whined about the sun in our eyes. You had lost your sunglasses and so I lent you mine. Of course they were the huge obnoxious typical valley girl sunglasses. I had two pairs. You put yours on and I put mine. Then we just looked at each other and laughed hysterically at how ridiculous we looked.
Then you grabbed my hand. And you smiled and said, "I love us together." It was perhaps the sweetest thing you ever said to me, right after, "You're so beautiful when you sleep, mainly because you're not talking or complaining."
I don't think I've ever been happier and more at ease than that day and I always think back to it.
Now you are with some new girl. She is now sleeping in your bed. She is now hearing your father's corny jokes and being asked if she wants a Take a Boost. She is now playing with Rosie and acting polite in front of your mother. Of course, she doesn't have to try so hard to be prim and proper in front of her as I did. She looks very...mature and sweet. Probably gives you none of the problems that I did.
I can't say I miss you, because I barely know you anymore. I can't say I miss our relationship, because we were both miserable.
Perhaps I simply wish that the memories meant more. That our time together meant more.
I'll always love the person I thought of you as and wish you nothing but the best.
But then again, you'll never read this.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
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