Happy 29th my love.
I waited until you'd fallen into your second sleep so that I could curl up next to you and be the first to welcome your birthday in. [ETA- happy birthday!]
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December of this year will be exactly ten years from that brisk winter night we spent walking towards Southport. We were both at a show at the Metro and in a bid to impress I'd bought you drink of some sort. Possibly a screwdriver, possibly a vodka cranberry and possibly something else altogether. It wasn't two sips into your drink before security came over for a wrist checked. They kicked you out show for underage drinking. Before that point, I remember being nervous and excited to be spending time with you and feeling like I was babbling. Details beyond you are more difficult to recall, less important. We left the Metro together, and walking North on Clark walked past the Gingerman and Racine to veer left onto Grace. I don't think we had any particular destination in mind. Just walking along, talking. Feeling the thrill of enjoyable company, the warmth of close proximity. Taking in Chicago's residential landscape. Tree lined sidewalks and brick walled alleys, pavement cracked by root. All lit dimly yellow by the sodium vapor glow of the street lamps. Loving it all and noticing that you seemed to enjoy it too. That secretly thrilled me. I remember thinking about the jokes you found funny, and learning about some of the ways we'd adapted to deal with the inherent fucked-up-ness of the universe. Of having the revelation,"I like being with the person. I hope to keep talking to her regardless of what happens." You've ended up a closer friend than I'd have imagined possible. I remember wanting the walk to last just a little bit longer, but not too much longer in the cold winter air. You wearing your black leather biker jacket, me the black leather duster with rips duct taped closed on the inside. Noticing us slow our walk to an almost amble, I felt that first faint and cautious thought that you might be feel the same way about me that I did about you.
I love you so much Karen. Happy 29th.
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December of this year will be exactly ten years from that brisk winter night we spent walking towards Southport. We were both at a show at the Metro and in a bid to impress I'd bought you drink of some sort. Possibly a screwdriver, possibly a vodka cranberry and possibly something else altogether. It wasn't two sips into your drink before security came over for a wrist checked. They kicked you out show for underage drinking. Before that point, I remember being nervous and excited to be spending time with you and feeling like I was babbling. Details beyond you are more difficult to recall, less important. We left the Metro together, and walking North on Clark walked past the Gingerman and Racine to veer left onto Grace. I don't think we had any particular destination in mind. Just walking along, talking. Feeling the thrill of enjoyable company, the warmth of close proximity. Taking in Chicago's residential landscape. Tree lined sidewalks and brick walled alleys, pavement cracked by root. All lit dimly yellow by the sodium vapor glow of the street lamps. Loving it all and noticing that you seemed to enjoy it too. That secretly thrilled me. I remember thinking about the jokes you found funny, and learning about some of the ways we'd adapted to deal with the inherent fucked-up-ness of the universe. Of having the revelation,"I like being with the person. I hope to keep talking to her regardless of what happens." You've ended up a closer friend than I'd have imagined possible. I remember wanting the walk to last just a little bit longer, but not too much longer in the cold winter air. You wearing your black leather biker jacket, me the black leather duster with rips duct taped closed on the inside. Noticing us slow our walk to an almost amble, I felt that first faint and cautious thought that you might be feel the same way about me that I did about you.
I love you so much Karen. Happy 29th.