"And we'll all float on all right..."
Seriously, don't read this. It's way too wordy for a post about four
measly days. Especially the way that this silly little plump starry-eyed
strawberry writes about them.
I remember a lot of details because in each moment, I told myself that I
wanted to bottle these memories and keep them forever.
Thursday was... what? Was that the night that we took a nighttime
walk through the bird sanctuary to where Tuttle Farm used to be, stumbled
upon Zach Mason and a friend of his philosophizing in the long grass field
to their bottle of wine, and after ambling back, sat on one of the four
hundred dollar wooden chairs the College has set up at the War Memorial (but
not on the War Memorial itself, because sitting or standing on it curses you
so that you won't find your true love and maybe it's retroactive and you
won't let me do it and that makes me feel fatuously happy) and watched the
gloomy outline of the Holyoke Range against the purple evening sky?
Friday was a terror. I helped move things into the storage unit, sent off
four packages to two different destinations, and almost died packing up my
room. I am a pack rat. Learn from my mistake: Have less shit.
We drove to Flayvor's for ice cream. I tasted Asparagus and got Peppermint
Stick and Ginger in a cone. You tasted orange pineapple (?) and got
chocolate fudge and black raspberry in a cup. (Why do I remember these
things? I associate sweet things with you. You drove me to the post office
and the airport. You helped me pack and acted as the opiate in my blood at 1
in the morning when I realized I had way too much shit and my suitcases
would probably be overweight.)
We went to Arigato II (the Benihana-type place) with some of your friends
and both wore red - I wore my favorite red dress (and ordered a matching
Shirley Temple and gave a lovely friend my maraschinos) and you wore a short
sleeved red shirt. You let me eat some of your food and I got tipsy on a few
shots of the terrible warm never-ending sake in the cute little bottle.
On Saturday, my heart burst with happiness when you drove me to Hartford and
we basked in the glory of the Hawaiian-forest green and exchanged the names
of our favorite movies. I learned that I need to watch more artsy movies. I
will admit that I felt sad when you finally drove away, but I never felt
heart-broken because I feel... well, it's hard to describe how I feel. But
in the past 48 hours or so I have seen many things to remind me of you and
make me wonder how much Dulles-Indianapolis round-trip plane tickets
cost...
Sunday: I went to some Christian service in the morning and my heart was
lighter. My cousins had their lacrosse games in the afternoon. Since I'd
spent most of the day with Eric, including walking to his elementary school
to pick up caterpillars and bring them back home, I went with my Aunt Gemma
to Costco and get lost on the way to Nathan's lacrosse game.
Lacrosse is now my favorite game to watch.
Then there was dinner and wondering when we would talk. I also
re-re-re-re-re-re-read My Side of the Mountain. Do young kids, used to
instant gratification and unlimited text messages and the idea that
Convenience is actually Necessity, understand the longing of generations of
kids before them who read the book and pined to live in an old tree?
I'm looking up the cost of those plane tickets right now.
measly days. Especially the way that this silly little plump starry-eyed
strawberry writes about them.
I remember a lot of details because in each moment, I told myself that I
wanted to bottle these memories and keep them forever.
Thursday was... what? Was that the night that we took a nighttime
walk through the bird sanctuary to where Tuttle Farm used to be, stumbled
upon Zach Mason and a friend of his philosophizing in the long grass field
to their bottle of wine, and after ambling back, sat on one of the four
hundred dollar wooden chairs the College has set up at the War Memorial (but
not on the War Memorial itself, because sitting or standing on it curses you
so that you won't find your true love and maybe it's retroactive and you
won't let me do it and that makes me feel fatuously happy) and watched the
gloomy outline of the Holyoke Range against the purple evening sky?
Friday was a terror. I helped move things into the storage unit, sent off
four packages to two different destinations, and almost died packing up my
room. I am a pack rat. Learn from my mistake: Have less shit.
We drove to Flayvor's for ice cream. I tasted Asparagus and got Peppermint
Stick and Ginger in a cone. You tasted orange pineapple (?) and got
chocolate fudge and black raspberry in a cup. (Why do I remember these
things? I associate sweet things with you. You drove me to the post office
and the airport. You helped me pack and acted as the opiate in my blood at 1
in the morning when I realized I had way too much shit and my suitcases
would probably be overweight.)
We went to Arigato II (the Benihana-type place) with some of your friends
and both wore red - I wore my favorite red dress (and ordered a matching
Shirley Temple and gave a lovely friend my maraschinos) and you wore a short
sleeved red shirt. You let me eat some of your food and I got tipsy on a few
shots of the terrible warm never-ending sake in the cute little bottle.
On Saturday, my heart burst with happiness when you drove me to Hartford and
we basked in the glory of the Hawaiian-forest green and exchanged the names
of our favorite movies. I learned that I need to watch more artsy movies. I
will admit that I felt sad when you finally drove away, but I never felt
heart-broken because I feel... well, it's hard to describe how I feel. But
in the past 48 hours or so I have seen many things to remind me of you and
make me wonder how much Dulles-Indianapolis round-trip plane tickets
cost...
Sunday: I went to some Christian service in the morning and my heart was
lighter. My cousins had their lacrosse games in the afternoon. Since I'd
spent most of the day with Eric, including walking to his elementary school
to pick up caterpillars and bring them back home, I went with my Aunt Gemma
to Costco and get lost on the way to Nathan's lacrosse game.
Lacrosse is now my favorite game to watch.
Then there was dinner and wondering when we would talk. I also
re-re-re-re-re-re-read My Side of the Mountain. Do young kids, used to
instant gratification and unlimited text messages and the idea that
Convenience is actually Necessity, understand the longing of generations of
kids before them who read the book and pined to live in an old tree?
I'm looking up the cost of those plane tickets right now.