PS- I remember you.
August 3, 2011
I was at the pool with Sarah last week, and we were just talking about silly things.
We talked about all of the boys I’ve ever liked, who’ve ever hurt my feelings, who I’ve kissed, etc.
She’s 13, so she likes the embarrassing stories I have stored up in my head.
I don’t like to think about how special my very first kiss was, because of who it was with. Blech.
I don’t like to think about how mind-numbingly in love I felt like I was for the first time, because of who it was with.
It’s weird to talk about how my heart was pounding when I held his hand. It’s embarrassing to admit that I wish we’d kissed.
I would’ve chosen (and did choose) him over just about anything.
It still made my stomach hurt when I was telling Sarah about when things unraveled with each of these boys.
Some stories made me more sad than others. Some of them made me really proud of myself for speaking my mind when it was really, really, really hard to. And also proud of myself for walking away when every part of me longed to stay and see what happened.
Anyways, these conversations just made me think about the boys who I was really close with at different times.
I remember phone conversations that lasted from 9 at night to 5 in the morning. I remember knowing
work schedules, class schedules, the time of day that he would go running, what he usually did when he got home in the afternoon, and all sorts of other details that only a girl would care about.
I remember telling myself, “We’ll still be best friends after we break up. We love each other way too much to not talk anymore”.
I also remember how much it hurt when we didn’t talk anymore. When I forgot his work schedule. When he didn’t text me after he went running. When I had no idea who he was anymore. When I heard from someone else about another girl he was with.
It is the strangest thing to be inseperable one minute, and not know each other at all the next.
It’s odd even now that I can’t remember if his birthday was on the 14th or the 16th.
Those things that used to matter so much to me are barely a shadow in my head now.
I just hope more than anything that this doesn’t happen with me and Michael.
I hope that when I call him at work, someone will always say, “It’s the wife!” and Mike will pick up and call me sweetie.
I hope that he’ll always want to talk to me before he goes to work in the morning. I hope that when he has to take the dog to the vet late at night, I’ll be the one who’s next to him the whole time. I hope that every love letter he writes for the rest of his life is to me. I hope the anniversaries we share will be the only ones I have to remember, and that September 13th will always be the birthday of the only one I love. I hope that his nieces will always call me auntie. I hope that I’m always the one he shares his good news with first, and I hope that he is always the one I go to first with mine. I hope that it won’t ever make me sad that every love song I hear reminds me of him. I hope that we always pray together. I hope that we always make up after we fight. I hope that we never leave the other’s heart. I hope that I’ll forever be the one who he comes home to. I hope that we’re always best friends. I hope that we don’t forget eachother.
I hope that we’ll keep on loving eachother, forever & ever.
