Random Word of the Day: Wading
Last summer, things were not this complicated. There was no death, no sickness, no worry. There was no drama, or hate, or hurt. I wasn't bitter, or moody.
I was in love.
All I needed was him, Waterhole Cove, and a pair of waders.
When I wasn't in Tennessee, I was with you. My fondest memories are of us taking off each others waders, daring each other to jump off of Knapps Narrows at night (your uncle was the bridge master). The days we spent down at Windy Hill, digging our toes in the sand, talking about love and life. We loved and laughed and stole each other's hearts. The countless hours spent in the workboat, doing everything but working. You taught me so much about the water. I remember seeing the Wye River waves reflect in your brown eyes, and how you smiled when I told you I saw your father, Jack, in your face.
(I miss Jack, too.)
I used to love how you'd rub my shoulders and call me "babe". I used to love how you'd touch me, even if it was just a hug, or some kind of embrace. Just your fingertips on me showed me you wanted me. It showed me you cared.
I used to love how you could waste an entire day doing nothing. You were so lazy. You were so funny.
I don't miss you shouting at me, calling me pathetic, telling me I'd never survive without you. I don't miss how you'd drop off your laundry and expect it to be done. I don't miss the drinking, or the pushing and shoving.
I don't miss the emotional and physical abuse.
But there's no way in hell that I could live without you.
Without you, last summer wouldn't have been as fun.
Without you, (or a pair of good waders),
I wouldn't be me.
And although I've moved on, and I've found someone new (someone who would never hurt me), sometimes I think about last August. I think about how hot it was, in more ways than one.
I think about you, Jim.
You helped me find myself.
Down in Sherwood, or Tilghman Island; in flip-flops or a pair of waders, I found myself.
And I can't thank you enough, Jim. For the 16 years that I've known you, you have done nothing but give me love and advice.
So here's to my best friend, the month of August, and a good pair of waders:
Here's to the summer that changed my life the most.
I was in love.
All I needed was him, Waterhole Cove, and a pair of waders.
When I wasn't in Tennessee, I was with you. My fondest memories are of us taking off each others waders, daring each other to jump off of Knapps Narrows at night (your uncle was the bridge master). The days we spent down at Windy Hill, digging our toes in the sand, talking about love and life. We loved and laughed and stole each other's hearts. The countless hours spent in the workboat, doing everything but working. You taught me so much about the water. I remember seeing the Wye River waves reflect in your brown eyes, and how you smiled when I told you I saw your father, Jack, in your face.
(I miss Jack, too.)
I used to love how you'd rub my shoulders and call me "babe". I used to love how you'd touch me, even if it was just a hug, or some kind of embrace. Just your fingertips on me showed me you wanted me. It showed me you cared.
I used to love how you could waste an entire day doing nothing. You were so lazy. You were so funny.
I don't miss you shouting at me, calling me pathetic, telling me I'd never survive without you. I don't miss how you'd drop off your laundry and expect it to be done. I don't miss the drinking, or the pushing and shoving.
I don't miss the emotional and physical abuse.
But there's no way in hell that I could live without you.
Without you, last summer wouldn't have been as fun.
Without you, (or a pair of good waders),
I wouldn't be me.
And although I've moved on, and I've found someone new (someone who would never hurt me), sometimes I think about last August. I think about how hot it was, in more ways than one.
I think about you, Jim.
You helped me find myself.
Down in Sherwood, or Tilghman Island; in flip-flops or a pair of waders, I found myself.
And I can't thank you enough, Jim. For the 16 years that I've known you, you have done nothing but give me love and advice.
So here's to my best friend, the month of August, and a good pair of waders:
Here's to the summer that changed my life the most.