Do you remember when we first met?
Dear Nicole,
Remember when you and Kaleb laid on the roof of your old car until sunrise, pointing out constellations and watching shooting stars? There must’ve been a hundred that night! You drove until the glare of the streetlights faded, then spent and un-navigated hour leaving the city, searching for the darkest, quietest place you could find.
It was cold. No breeze, but the type of cold that wraps around you tightly as if welcoming itself onto your skin, drying up every pore as it works its way into your bones. You laid their still, with your eyes tearing up from the dryness in the air, and watched star, after star shoot across the sky. Each time one would fall, you could hear him yell out, “Another one, another one!” His screams sounded like a distant roar that echoed through the blackness of the night.
And, it was then that you closed your watery eyes as if to make wish, but instead you met me.
That wasn’t the first time we met, but you know that. I just remembered your reflexive smile, and that childish moment of hope that washed over you like the last wave of a high-tide as it renews the beach, only to go through the same cycle over, again, and again. It was those times that you felt; really felt.
I’m writing not to advise you to ignore feelings of longing, I still feel those. Or, to ignore the complexities of fear, I still feel those. Although, these days they’re a little diluted by the wonders of pure joy, freedom, and happiness.
Most of all, my days are spent in a bit of a haze, now. It’s a fog that conceals the cruel, and amplifies the ordinary. It sticks around for most of the day like the sounds of a hungry clock. It feels new to you, and somehow you know it’ll never grow old; love.
So, keep getting lost in the stars and keep hoping for more, because I can tell you that the journey is so, so worth it! I sit here, now, writing an old friend. She doesn’t know me as well as I know her, but when the time comes, it’ll feel like we’re one.
if you need to talk, I think you’ll find a way to see me.
Until next time,
N.P.
Remember when you and Kaleb laid on the roof of your old car until sunrise, pointing out constellations and watching shooting stars? There must’ve been a hundred that night! You drove until the glare of the streetlights faded, then spent and un-navigated hour leaving the city, searching for the darkest, quietest place you could find.
It was cold. No breeze, but the type of cold that wraps around you tightly as if welcoming itself onto your skin, drying up every pore as it works its way into your bones. You laid their still, with your eyes tearing up from the dryness in the air, and watched star, after star shoot across the sky. Each time one would fall, you could hear him yell out, “Another one, another one!” His screams sounded like a distant roar that echoed through the blackness of the night.
And, it was then that you closed your watery eyes as if to make wish, but instead you met me.
That wasn’t the first time we met, but you know that. I just remembered your reflexive smile, and that childish moment of hope that washed over you like the last wave of a high-tide as it renews the beach, only to go through the same cycle over, again, and again. It was those times that you felt; really felt.
I’m writing not to advise you to ignore feelings of longing, I still feel those. Or, to ignore the complexities of fear, I still feel those. Although, these days they’re a little diluted by the wonders of pure joy, freedom, and happiness.
Most of all, my days are spent in a bit of a haze, now. It’s a fog that conceals the cruel, and amplifies the ordinary. It sticks around for most of the day like the sounds of a hungry clock. It feels new to you, and somehow you know it’ll never grow old; love.
So, keep getting lost in the stars and keep hoping for more, because I can tell you that the journey is so, so worth it! I sit here, now, writing an old friend. She doesn’t know me as well as I know her, but when the time comes, it’ll feel like we’re one.
if you need to talk, I think you’ll find a way to see me.
Until next time,
N.P.
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